Past perfections, past the imperfect, beyond the dreams and the - TopicsExpress



          

Past perfections, past the imperfect, beyond the dreams and the goals - through the fields of shattered hearts, unrequited loves, nostalgia and childhood. Down the rabbit hole, where Alice happened not to venture, sits a man, a Brud. Perched atop his log with his frogfolk, chirping in a deep, lighthearted longing. Between chaos and freedom, truth and clandestiny, the setting sun begets the newborn moon. And with her honey-milk light pouring down, dripping along the swaying hills in great and small streams to the bed of the toad family, dancing fairies light up each lily, each pad, each mushroom into the realm it is. Where into the woods, the Shakespearean scene draws blood out of blood from blood. And the forest drips.
Posted on: Fri, 05 Sep 2014 05:19:40 +0000

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