Fallen petals are nature’s confetti The wilted remnants of summer celebration Stiff stems blackened by the sun Are the used wicks of fireworks The colors that blazed and inspired awe Have long faded now As the nights grow longer
Singing in the Great Divide by nawkaman, literature
Singing in the Great Divide
Space expands, right before our eyes but we don't know this. Or even notice. We've been dividing into smaller and smaller portions, dropping the remainders into oceans and floating on the surface of every interaction. Past selves are shrinking dots, barely visible on a haunting, hushed horizon thick like the choking sense of everything and nothing surrounding us. And we are so much more fragile now. And afraid of one another.