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kuribohIN our second home, with a family much bigger than our own
Is where we spend our day and most of our energy,
With eachother,
and when we have to leave; not all of us go.
Language stays and finds solace in imaginative prose and ever-so-strict poetry.
Song hides within his notes, and behind the voices.
Theatre twists people to people not themselves, and yet they are.
And beauty exist in all of these beings, but for the ones loved by
colour and light,
And depth and texture,
And spaces and figures,
and whatever else there is to see...
Her I find in the morning, asleep by her donkey, hair mused and
clothing far more colourful than it should be.
Her brush is still in her hands.
And when I go to remove it,
her hands,
so callused and rough,
abused and mistreated,
are like rocks in the soft petals of mine.
Written for a very dear friend of mine who needs a bit less stress in her life.
Expect another one for another friend soon.
Is where we spend our day and most of our energy,
With eachother,
and when we have to leave; not all of us go.
Language stays and finds solace in imaginative prose and ever-so-strict poetry.
Song hides within his notes, and behind the voices.
Theatre twists people to people not themselves, and yet they are.
And beauty exist in all of these beings, but for the ones loved by
colour and light,
And depth and texture,
And spaces and figures,
and whatever else there is to see...
Her I find in the morning, asleep by her donkey, hair mused and
clothing far more colourful than it should be.
Her brush is still in her hands.
And when I go to remove it,
her hands,
so callused and rough,
abused and mistreated,
are like rocks in the soft petals of mine.
Written for a very dear friend of mine who needs a bit less stress in her life.
Expect another one for another friend soon.
