The first time I heard my father’s voice,
it was crisp and clear,
when the call dropped.
The spirits of symphoric construction are amongst us in weightless decay,
Holding the rhythm of a salutation to the moon when passed by the tentatively unaware,
Masses suffocated by waves trying to evade craters that are better held by the sun,
In a time so long ago.
Present in the space of what’s not,
Displaying everything that is,
When they used to be.
Ascending like the rise of an eyelid.
Those of the youth trying to guide the grounded,
Yet already leading in a swift array.
Not stagnant in the tears of a lost foundation-
Small feet dancing in elation,
Inventing a life in the sky—
Watched by those that shall not be moved.
aww man, yeah thats definitely been a bit! but yeah, i love it here! what area did you stay?
sorry i cant let you know anonymous :/
"chasing the sun as it were", i liked that. My nationality? Zimbabwean. My residence for most of the year? New Jersey.
hello hello, I am great! Waking up. How’s it going on your end?