Saturday, April 8, 2017


like echoes

I remember

The twisted vindictive

my grandmother’s eyes

turning their minds

into sandcastles

the origins of savagery

some dreamscape

of long sweeping tides

 we are owls in trees

looking upon vastness

as I was taught

what is suffering?

In the ebb and flow

Of time

Eroding human weakness

Like some childish activity

As if awakening

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