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 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
.
he lays
perfectly still,
with his back,
one with the ground.

his hand,
tracking the cadence
in his chest,

as he
milks poetry
out of the moon.



.
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
If indeed
my heart knows
every word
to this song,

why then
does my voice
argue that it
should never
be sung?
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
Will he
awaken
from a
wide-eyed
slumber?

Will he
be the
bearer
of bated
breaths?

Will he
succumb
to the calls of the
nether after?

When he
indulges in
romanticised notions
of untimely
deaths.
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
.
sore is the wound
that rejects
the salve of time

.
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
If you stood still,
and depend
only on the earth’s rotation,
the change you sorely seek
will come - but not too soon.

If you could wait no longer,
elect to move along
with the ground,
you’d soon enough find
as your ceiling
- new skies.
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
Chalk
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
Even when all
the ruby shards
and splinters
had vaporised,

I’d pretend
to gather
invisible
broken pieces

outlined in chalk.
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
My heels had felt
harsh gravity
of the steep downhill...

My toes suffered,
the vicious bite
of the incline.

My soles had tasted
the everlasting bland
offered by the flat of the earth.

I know the distance.

Alas I run unequipped,
with a horse’s breath.
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
We both
fell in love
with the idea
of eternity.

Unfortunately,
eternity...
Never fell for us.
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
.
If our family was a tree,
you must be the roots.

Forever planted,
forever supporting,
forever nurturing.


Just so that all of us,
may bask in the amber
of the sun...
And bathe in the silver
of the moon.


.
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
Spool
 Aug 2021 ScriptedReposts
ryn
Unravelling...
Like an
endless spool of yarn...

Constant flow
of thoughts,

only punctuated
by the break
between each song
and the next.
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