Thursday, 31 December 2009

the cusp

blue moon knows not of the occassion i shouldn't think. doing what she does from memory. or habit. or because it's the only thing she can do. her destiny set by gravity. infused in each mote of dust. doesn't know that the skin between moments has meaning because we bestow it with such. all hands on faces and bells. bells heralding the second where the future is now. where now swells with blood thick with possibility. where prayers are whispered like invocations from our primitive core to everything we know without knowing.

4 comments:

Red Bird said...

Wow- a beautiful and rich work here, my friend. I love the visual of "blood thick with possibility".
This is delicious.
xo

K said...

I am truely touched by the amazing words.

art-and-ghosts said...

i never have the ability to express how much your words move me. your words are like intricate points of light that prick through the darkness and dazzle me into consciousness. thank god;)

Timo said...
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