Dreaded horned Ahmhuluk hid with black folded wings in an ice cave west of Hill Hook while the red sun set sings into a blue ocean of rings. With Simone de Beauvoir in wearisome repose by our lonesome campfire as the dark night will close with gentle arms & guelder rose. A forgotten sadness falls from distant Betelgeuse. The silver full moon stalls by a ghost of a rose lost long ago. I awoke to the calls of a grey haired woman in a flowing red dress her great beauty to me befalls.
A well written thought for the times.
the sunset shades of red and orange
and the black of the city below
the tumult of the world
the needless bloodshed
the destruction of morals
the sense of
there is fighting for the freedoms
that the comfortable among us
thought were won a century ago
or half a century ago
or a decade ago.
so why is the sky still filled with red,
crying out in solidarity
who currently battle for change
the sky says nothing,
just stares down
at the torn-up town,
a lone, shadowed man stands at his window
as the birds caw and flee
from his rooftop.
through the glass,
he sees the red, the orange,
he sees the faintly tinted violet
and he sees the silver sliver of a moon
rising over it all
Photo by Mind…
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A lost Angel alone by the river of love, you shed sad tears for lost eternity fading into dark stars at the far-flung edge of known time spinning away into cosmic hues of color. Meditation now ends, I awake to new life of a dying planet where no one understands or cares how it will end confined in their egos of death. Prayer flags will still flutter gently into quiet summer breezes. Rivers of love shall never end.