breath of dusk

Keeping watch, I lay astride,

Staring, gazing afar distant the eyes can reach;
The soul longing to touch the dewdrops in the horizon before the earth clings;
The rain tearing through died;
The sun sedated and drowned;
Boring through the flesh, the warmth of the breath of dusk,
Failing in wait to plow for the willow tree cradling [...]

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just dropping by

“Would that I were a dry well, so people might throw stones into my depths.  For it is better to be an empty well than a spring of pure water untouched by thirsty lips.”

The Voice of the Master-Kahlil Gibran
 

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