| A surge from behind and tumbling forward a ribbon unfolds the black. uncovering the sinking and propelling it on no motion of turning back. It flies ahead a dance of red and delight. Moon-lit skies and death-empty nights consumed with the pain that soils another heart and washes my hands clean with guilt. a hole Time decaying in motion erroding into a beauty not seen but felt. |
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Dance of the ribbon
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1 comment:
Jeeslaaik Christy... there is so much here! Should keep you busy for a year, trying to capture all the images that come jumbling out...
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