Sometimes beach roads remind me of a journey into another reality.
An entry way into spoken word of death becoming real.
Colorful tile when I was brought to my knees
A baptism in the ocean that I didn’t ask for but needed
Flying moths the Mayan people call “signs from traveling souls”
Sometimes this place reminds me of death
Other times I’m reminded of rebirth
Feb 12, 2019
Feb 12, 2019 at 8:08 PM UTC
Sometimes beach roads remind me of a journey into another reality.
An entry way into spoken word of death becoming real.
Colorful tile when I was brought to my knees
A baptism in the ocean that I didn’t ask for but needed
Flying moths the Mayan people call “signs from traveling souls”
Sometimes this place reminds me of death
Other times I’m reminded of rebirth