seasons
even the seasons are fucked. they neither walk in gently nor do they remain steady. the moon and the spirit wane. the heart trembles as it waits in silence. notes begun are scrunched and discarded. how we ache for the things we got used to. how we ache for seasons that wake soft and walk steady. we blink through days and swallow nights and the spirit and the moon wane and sing. we are nested in wisdom now tossed to the floor.
we are vested deeply in patience for this. we take notes on hope- and hope on these. and feed the unsaid to hungry stars.
collaboration with poet & painter Joseph M. Lopez @J.l.writer. 25-06-21