So, uh, this used to be a tradition every December. 25 days of Christmas themed poetry. Started it four years ago, haven't done it the past two, but want to do it now. I've been in a rut. Please do it too if you feel urged to do so.
"Words say little to the mind compared to space thundering with images and crammed with sounds."
THE MIRACULOUS HEAT BIRTH OF OUR PLANET; i imagine your hands' moon and rays wrapped around the stupid animal in my heart with a certain amount of pressure, for a certain amount of time.
"Words say little to the mind compared to space thundering with images and crammed with sounds."
Maybe what most people wanted wasn't immortality and fame, but the reassurance that their existence had meant something. No matter how long... or how brief. Maybe being eternal meant becoming a story worth telling. — Roshani Chokshi, Aru Shah and the Nectar of Immortality
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