Water, Stories, The Body, All

I Am Yours. Don't Give Myself Back To Me.

The Moon Stays Bright When It Doesn't Avoid The Night.

Like A Shadow, I Am And I Am Not.

For Hundreds Of Thousands Of Years I Have Been Dust-grains Floating And Flying In The Will Of The Air, Often Forgetting Ever Being In That State, But In Sleep I Migrate Back.

How Will You Know The Difficulties Of Being Human, If You Are Always Flying Off To Blue Perfection? Where Will You Plant Your Grief Seeds? Workers Need Ground To Scrape And Hoe, Not The Sky Of Unspecified Desire.