I have met solitude where rays kiss the grass. I have sandwiched myself between the rising of the sun and have found myself overshadowed, still, by the dusk. I have gotten used to this feeling of loneliness as a bird to a song, its feet to the branch of a tree, its heart enclosed within its feathers, making melodies for all, but none too long to last.
I have found that in my heart lies yet another bird beating about. Here, there is a song as well that –plays ceaselessly from e to D to E to d. Resting, covered under the eventide sheets lay intimate conversations within the radius of God’s heart -that purest of reds in the diamond mines.
I flap my wings and reverb; I am the music and the bird. I am the breaking of hearts in cold weather, fully forlorn under Father’s thumb. The world…
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