A still sparrow, breast pressed unnaturally against the concrete. The diminutive swoop of exposed cheekbone, and sallow voids for eyes. Death held frozen by the preservation of the sun. I brush away it's cloak of windswept leaves. The quiet trip home, shrouded in kinhin, a tiny body cupped gently in cradled hands. Placed in reverence inside a galaxy of black and white stones. Memento Mori contemplation, haloed in candlelight and gratitude.
11:30 a.m. - 2020-06-04
Recent entries:
Thanking the Pandemonium - 2020-11-26
Simplicity of Sometimes - 2020-11-25
Bubblebeams - 2020-11-18
Red Blue Green Purple - 2020-11-11
Too Young to Descend - 2020-11-11
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