The air is still and the mind’s grown soft
The land is quiet, the sky is black.
Will the gravity ever cut some slack?
Solemn in its cold, winded in its ways.
The definition of nothing.
It’s the passage of gravity that ages
The passing of earth to sky.
The burning kind of wondering why. The trees are bare and the needles & pines are all off.
The fire has died, the quiet is black.
Will the gravity ever cut some slack?
Solemn in its cold, winded in its ways.