
12 Followers
The silence was broken only by a raven’s call, sharp and certain. I looked up to find it perched on a bare branch, unbothered by the cold. I watched it for a while and wondered what it knows about being alone without being lonely. That’s a wisdom I’d like to learn.
From the charred knuckles of volcano crawls steam, throat knotted in smoke. Ash brands my tongue bright with vowels gutted of hope, and I swallow their scorch whole, ribs singing psalms cracked open by hunger dressed in fire’s thin skin.
The tide swaggered in, hips slamming sand, foam frothing like spit. And I laughed, thinking: desire isn’t tender—it’s tidal, it chews, it claws, it drenches every shore it loves until even stones forget their shape.
Moonlight plucked the forest in silver pizzicato, strings humming hymns in every trembling leaf. I lay under its music and thought: maybe divinity isn’t doctrine—it’s resonance, a pulse that vibrates bone until silence sounds symphonic, until our marrow mistakes hush for harpsong.