Buried moon, buried moon Who to talk about at noon When dreams are plundered by light And powdered in gold and charcoal dust. Crescent fairies are sad in the rouse and at falter to surmise the scanty slumbering traces that…
Buried moon, buried moon Who to talk about at noon When dreams are plundered by light And powdered in gold and charcoal dust. Crescent fairies are sad in the rouse and at falter to surmise the scanty slumbering traces that…
Longing = a yearning desire. “It seems to me we can never give up longing and wishing while we are thoroughly alive. There are certain things we feel to be beautiful and good, and we must hunger after them.” – George…
Why can’t we sleep with the Gods? be with them turn their thoughts to foam touch and revere their lapis lazuli skin until myths flicker in the cave and the earth booms at their voices The rain from Olympus is…