Hi all once again. Recently, I’ve been drawing and building things more with my hands rather than with a pen or a keyboard. What I am currently working on will have to be saved for another time simply because of its gargantuan measure: it would take at least 10 posts just to cover it.
Anyway, in all things considered, I have been still writing small pieces and wondering if they’re simply junk or, rather, cues to something much more magical. Right now I remain uncertain…but perhaps you, dear reader(s), can help me out somehow.
What I am sharing today doesn’t necessarily stem from anything other than the curious–and dangerous–case of staring of to the side while driving through the local woods. But it comes from the experience of constant change, too, of being somewhere right now and then being gone, and all in an incredibly short amount of time. I guess driving, riding, walking or any sort of transport does that.
This is entirely first draft material and hasn’t been played around with, so has room for future expansion and interrogation 😛
The sparse gloom creeps along the naked crust of earth. Columnar saplings stare, aching for the break of rain, searching with their tabular antennae towards the sky.
A tumbled hail and grey chill combine in the forest, awakened by the perturbed trickle of daylight. The sleet there clings to the irregular ground.
Globular forms leech to the nests of unborn children still warm in their innocent lull; their mothers all far and gone from this place.
The familiar call emerges on high but is split and twisted with the looming clouds. Where was response to be found lest in the suffocation of their dreamland?
They venture through the nerve-endings of the world ablaze in the mother’s eye, cruising towards the diaphanous rise, the ecliptic wake.
Thanks again to anyone/everyone for stopping by here.
It feels quite nice to have produced something again and light this area up.
Peace,
Tom.
His Empty Space 