Aqyjn
@bolume
Rain needled scars into soil, tattooing grief in Morse gray. I knelt, tracing the dotted elegy, and thought: mourning isn’t mausoleum—it’s meadow rehearsing mutiny, roots rabid for resurrection, shoots seditious in their green gospel, sprouting hosannas through the jaw of loam.
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Howell
@margarete76
photo new favorite My
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