Thursday, April 6, 2017


Alone in a grotto and I have no complaints to echo. History is a dentist - no tooth, no claw, no lilting. The quiet can make no mark. This void, so beautiful; it is for me, just as I am for it. This can't be the vanity of halcyon days. How long will emptiness remain? I don't mind. When do the waves come?

No comments:

Post a Comment