Poetry (words)


Perfect silence the allure of isolation in nature’s hands. Alone in the half-light in dusks approach, my lungs filled with whispers for this familiar place. 

Everything that grows here has a beginning, a seed planted in the past. It’s canopy the solar cell feeding roots, filtered and stored. 

Even in decomposition life finds a way here, uprooted grandeur still stretched towards the light. A century of memories silently falling.

On the pages where worlds unfold lies a forgotten history. How those stories we love have a backdrop of the greatest wonder. 


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