into the wind
be sown
thoughts
their fruits
never reaching
full richness
that eyes alone
might savor a sight
without rendering
any meaning
their fruits
never reaching
full richness
that eyes alone
might savor a sight
without rendering
any meaning
arm in arm
from friendships
to cosmic riddles
to labors of corpus and thought
to spirits bruis’d and tearful laughs
to solitary retreats
‘tis our love’s fault