Our nib hits a snowball and the Himalayas turn blue.
What is this snow falling from the skies unknown, melting in my palms shaped like…
a pioneering poem
an Equinox poem
Line of birds of paradise on one side of the road
a solstice poem to read around the fire
We are just candles to the sun That will one day burnout
Only having hadThe wick and wax granted to us
My dearest dopamine,
nothing can contest,