Just like sand cathedrals, we're forever changing with the shifts, constantly fading back into a blackness.
There's always going to be this urge, this feeling that we're crooked. We'll never be the ox pulling our own wagon, we're on a magnetic path to the unknown yet its the only road to finding acceptance.
Feel small things, let the little magics wash your face before bed. Let the birds be your whispers, flittering over the mountains as your body.
You have no name, you have no fear. The stars are your cardinals leading you to the quite.
Find this moment & rest in it.
May 29, 2019
May 29, 2019 at 4:53 AM UTC
Just like sand cathedrals, we're forever changing with the shifts, constantly fading back into a blackness.
There's always going to be this urge, this feeling that we're crooked. We'll never be the ox pulling our own wagon, we're on a magnetic path to the unknown yet its the only road to finding acceptance.
Feel small things, let the little magics wash your face before bed. Let the birds be your whispers, flittering over the mountains as your body.
You have no name, you have no fear. The stars are your cardinals leading you to the quite.
Find this moment & rest in it.
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