i. my ink Grows greenly in the deep blue Sea of (V a s t, this)night, sending roots down deep, tendrils up and out -- a r OUnD in anticipation of the break (ing of soil,) of dawn and s w e e t a i r ---| but for now, Rest. Satisfied in soily…Read more my ink_
rest
.Rest~
.rest ~ why is it that by night the world draws on garments of familiarity (comforting as an old and beloved blanket: a gentle guise devised of moonlit floors, leaves over- shadowing walls with quiet motions and nurturing instinct, nursing over- stimulated eyes with a simple cadence, simple cadence, cadence...). {darkness} the secret of the…Read more .Rest~
