Welcome dear reader,
Tonight I share a new piece that I wrote whilst observing nature, which I then recalled late one night. The night brings many things to the surface.
I think the piece is self-explanatory and doesn’t need any introduction.
Sometimes it is best to sit and watch in awe the splendour of this continual moment.
Enjoy.
The water our blood
The earth our flesh
The trees our lungs
It does not rest
What it looks like on the outside is what it looks like on the inside
The patterns that spiral from your fingers and the lines in your palms
are the rings that ring on the inside of palms
And the fractures on your face are no different to earthquakes built up
over time expressing your expression
And the flickers of light that trickle and bleed over your skin
be the same as the sand that bands the coast
The thunderstorms that are high in the sky are your neurons firing inside,
all day, all night, the lightning that lights your view
The waves that wave are waving to you, and so are you waving like the streams and rivers
are veining through you
But that pattern that beats, and has beaten for long, does not end, merely begins again,
after you move along.
I am seeking direction for new writing pieces. Topics, keywords, or anything of the kind to base new work upon. If you have any ideas, please share.
Thanks again for stopping by
Tom.
Sidenote; the image on the header is a negative impression of a recent monotype.
His Empty Space 