Poetry & ProseBetween poetry and prose, there is a white light. Whispers of yesterday sigh into the horizon, and disappear into the sky like fallen dreams. Silence turns, and unravels unto itself. It is quiet. All around, there is nothing but light and sinewy shadow. Clouds immerge, and disappear, leaving traces of what once was. Between poetry and prose, there is a white light. And it breathes onto the landscape of a desolate heaven. |
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