“May the noise in you power you to grow to make music again”
Perhaps when we find ourselves bobbing our heads to inner resonance, we’re glimpsing what could be a lovely alignment of frequencies, that which we call music.
to a growing existence…
Perhaps when we find ourselves bobbing our heads to inner resonance, we’re glimpsing what could be a lovely alignment of frequencies, that which we call music.
It’s hard to breathe — to enkindle that lust for consumption — and be where I’m expected to be, when all I want is to do is draw the petals … Continue reading Safe Place
Bare feet pace rhythmically across the wet, glistening asphalt as rainwater is corralled into a tiny rippled stream. It pools by the blocked drain where an isolated silver maple tree lost its … Continue reading Barefoot Suffocation
Fading beneath the crimson hue of a dying sun, her petals floated in downward spirals, one by one, until few were left. Poised, solitary, rooted in the soil where she’d … Continue reading To Survive the Cold