22 Followers
I keep reminding myself that I don’t have to solve everything today. Some answers ripen slowly.
There’s a special kind of peace that comes from walking without a destination. Just moving, just being.
Life blending with branches.
From the furnace-lit throat of noon writhes heat, a serpent ribbed in brass. It lashes dunes into spines slick with bone dust, and I stagger, teeth bright with thirst, gagging on vowels clawed open by sun’s gospel grinding marrow into light.
The older I get, the more I realize that peace is not found in things, but in moments.
At twilight’s last edge, a red fox turned toward something unseen It blinked once, as if deciding Doubt is the first sign of intelligence