As I sat in quiet contemplation,
the whispers of a morning forest,
received my broken body,
and help me upon barren winter branches.
the lack of color lent itself to the sky,
as a gray eternity suffered a perfect incision,
from the calloused hand of a forgotten figure.
broken images projected themselves,
across the vast expanse of liquid sheets,
and each piece of earthen bound water,
became a carefully plotted dot of ink.
As my feet sent ripples across the muddy ground,
disturbing my self-portrait,
a heavenly silhouette smiled,
whilst a young boy slowly recognized,
the perfect canvas upon which he stood.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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i don't know why but i get more and more impressed with your pen, it is like you muse just keep handing you gold, keep it flowing
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