My fire? All sucked off me alongside my verve, my royalty. I have nothing left but bulging bones and thoughts in the foreground of my evanesced presence.
Next time you are near trees, touch your palm to their bodies and think of all of history’s petrified wood, how each ring circling inside it tells a story.
There are times I wonder what awaits me in the future.. Whenever it starts to scare me, I remind myself that death is really the beginning of something new.
Feel free to disagree, but please have a foundation of disagreement based on something other than personal offense or “but that’s what my teachers told me."