Past

baked under the sun parched by time no longer a moisture holder remembering yesteryear’s laughter pods breaking in two seeds falling on grounds new life will eventually spring celebratory bells will ring age come fort to tell stories of uneven length ends have withered and fall others remained standing tall ________________ Advertisements

Edge…

as i stroll the roads of dreams arenas of shows seem unclear obscure depiction of characters wrecked diary now in cheers deep in the dark of slumber epilogues are born in small numbers nearing the edge of every story  the sun waits for another glory ——————–