Would the scarecrow climb down from his perch,his job done and the fields fallow,the promise of a harvest satisfiedas the roughened hands of the seaso..
There was a time where I didn't knowand my ignorance was a cozy cocoon a soft,bright feather bed of contentment,so anxious was I to break through thos..
The light sweeps the room with its bluish breath;the dying of another day slips quietly into the barren soil and the world sleepsbeneath the heavy lid..