You came on the
wings of breath.
In stories of
our dreams.
On endings of
all things.
To reveal this form
as a no-thing.
A shell, a hollow
bamboo stick.
An empty wick,
waiting to be lit.
SZ
Your Custom Text Here
You came on the
wings of breath.
In stories of
our dreams.
On endings of
all things.
To reveal this form
as a no-thing.
A shell, a hollow
bamboo stick.
An empty wick,
waiting to be lit.
SZ