Longing ahead, a stride of time, leaping through the seven hills, braving the currents, here I sit on the edge of paradigm. (c)boringbug
Her radiant smile warming the insolent hearts,\ as dust settles. (c)boringbug
Driving through my texts, I noticed some forgotten thoughts. Rotting in pages. Probably left alone in conscience. Letters melting before, crumbling like a gigantic mountain that had seen zenith but couldn’t resist it’s urge for more. The ideas, the creativity, and vision, seemingly trapped within a clobberstone. Waiting to be grated, to fret upon. But…
With the passage of time, one observes the change in nature. A tree, which once pierced zenith, reaches the brim of extinction upon the arrival of a storm. The magnanimous effects of aging. Brazen, it’s grazed by the memories of its youth. The memories of might, whence it was indomitable. An era of victory over nature….