When people started dividing,
in the cave we never left,
the few in front of us all
where only closer to the shapes
the shadows of what is not
for us all.
Nochrisis
Day 1059, grey-less.
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
Day 833, feelings.
A small-minded mind
dimly creeps to the sharp edge
not feeling the end.
Day 832, noise.
Thousands of synapses inspiring in you.
The noise drowning out your iridescent path.
Drenched by the weight you reach out your mind,
to see a perspective in calm and silence.
Day 827, closed eyes.
Eyes closed and the darkness spirals.
The black mass pulls down, up, it turns,
the movement lures my mood in.
I open my eyes and it lingers.
Day 824, downstream.
Veins stretch like rivers
down to mysterious slopes
carrying the end.
Day 794, fly.
Preparing and fly
glistering wings haunting hope
its anxious nature.
Day 667, Communication.
Communication is movement,
dispersed by intention
as light throwing a shadow
and unsharp mask.
