The herd can have their green pastures–I prefer to graze in the burrowed, dark vaults within.
The landscapes I was called to explore are the psychological–the terra incognita of the mind, of which, horizons stretch the imagination at the crossroads of light and shadow.
Baby azalea pink hues
Carry the river to the mystical muse
Be like the eternal child, and drink from the wellspring
Will as aromatic as an aged bottle of chartreuse
Refuse, the noxious fumes
From the zephyr causticity of society
Preserve your spirit, and you will circumnavigate your anxieties
Dissipated souls fill the catacombs of our existence
Foraging for a pulse, vitality, anything is better than that comatose subsistence
Refuse to lose
So that you may lose