Blank Page

I start with a blank page, and I fill it with memories and meanderings. Each line an ode to a different time. Moments of the past bubble to the surface. Imagery of water and wind. Sounds of psithurism and smells akin to petrichor.

…

And this work isn’t finished. and it might never be, but I place it on the altar and tend to it day after day. Constantly refining, chipping away at the marble, hoping to reveal some sort of masterpiece beneath.

Short and sweet, for now I leave it be.

like this holy thing

mystery

amuri,

franky