Now to come back to the place where I
Now to come back to the place where I began…
To realize I had written one thousand verbs in pursuit of ghosts. Those days when the perfume of nostalgia was constantly ripe in the recesses of my mind. When I sang accolades of my soft heart. That open, pulsating entity I feared so greatly. But the feeling is ebbing, receding and what is left? What is left. is. chiseled.
For no man sails back towards the setting sun.