The red stands for blood
that runs through our construct
the black, and white our views.
The red is what we spill
our construct wants to rule
we are, black and white.
Nochris
Day 973, your shadow.
An empty still life
once the bearer of your cloak
casting your shadow.
Day 954, grey.
At low tide, birds feed
and the air and light is grey
time stands still and goes.
Day 902, endless.
Boundless summer bliss
when our time stretched endlessly
etched in a grey past.
Day 876, grey sky.
Grey sky surrounding
the wind propels you forwards
leaving you behind.
Day 868, dreams.
Light shines a corner
a dreaming line fades this dawn
black veils receding.
Day 837, a new web.
One beginning spreads
following a blind bearing
and pay tribute too.
Day 835, around.
A beautiful leaf
A bug’s meal or it might fall
A circular life
