Leaning towards the sun
I long to grasp and contain its light and
Embed it within so that the growth
I desire
Is unrecognizable even to me.
Why is it so hard to breath?
YOU ARE READING
Tangents
PoetryIt's some kind of literary form. Quote me: k.t. Sometimes explaining something does not give it meaning, but leaves it without purpose.
As Angels Sing
Leaning towards the sun
I long to grasp and contain its light and
Embed it within so that the growth
I desire
Is unrecognizable even to me.
Why is it so hard to breath?
