Friday, 3 April 2015

Journal # 04.03.15

Some kinda reverse osmosis then the water's all gone the tears cycled through you and cannot be collected again like a path once traveled to great heights now overgrown by ferns and hidden and passed by unseen... and only the lucky one who walks slowly enough and dismisses the calls to catch up may find the way to the great heights we all remembered. And only the sun stops and awaits this ascent from the darkness where shade cools the blade of the fern and the shoulder of the one who has stretched off the spine to divine with the fear falling down like a spear to the ground and still.

No one around.