Enter through simple words. In short phrases that reach between atoms. Never too late, always arriving. Frequently the sun speaks, transferring waves. When the sun dies, it melts the city as it turns itself into darkness.
Gray dome, kingdom of underground storm, break forth and reform the light into mirrors. Safely, in the slowness, out of demise. Fully strum, with shaking hand, the strings of becoming. Self-taught, all of us, so that one day, we can walk forever through wind. Oh so many words to get rid of. I have stumbled over all of them.