My hands are manic, I think I might fly.
This elation in my chest can’t help but come out
like how it’s near impossible to hold in the face you pull
after tasting something sour.
If I flap any faster, I’ll end up in the sky.
writer, book reviewer, daydreamer
My hands are manic, I think I might fly.
This elation in my chest can’t help but come out
like how it’s near impossible to hold in the face you pull
after tasting something sour.
If I flap any faster, I’ll end up in the sky.
I want to search for myself in the grain,
stills can only tell so much
and I need more.
So back I roll past white noise
to the start of my fingers
tapping out the sheet music on invisible keys
while my eyes put up their barrier against the hum
and I go off into space.
There it is. The movement
I’m playing right now, recorded in the background
twenty-one years ago.
The heart stone is solid,
never fading.
Even in grey light
the complex shadows within
can always be summoned by the wielder
for reassurance,
showing every part of the spectrum
until calm has been restored.
Dance with the water,
draw its salt up to your heart:
calm, well-balanced mind.
Naturalist and multi-award winning author
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