Monday, 26 September 2011
blessed are the pure of heart
green is the grass and blue is the sky before the night is close, a grey cloud takes a breath from the sun and then the golden light touches me again. The death is all around me and it has my blood on its insect wings. A steel grate lines the dirt and the grass leads to here in a gentle slope. Trees and things bend and move and little bark takes up root in my hand, my wings unfold and shimmer behind me and then stretch out and blow the dust from the webs and all the animals turn around and the ground is soft with pine needles and the air is cleaner than the air in the grey and black and white city. windows outside my window reflect the trees' outside my window and their fresh greenery. it is black and orange in the night and moves ever. god is in my empty mind and satan rests on either hand, humans will be extinct before the last tree is gone from the earth and i must be getting somewhere, because it's taking less and less effort to appreciate the beauty of life.