is there no escape
sucked into reason’s vortex
whirled by a prose world
i spit shadow stone tablets
until sense breathes tear-gasped formless
grace-fallen process
word-ditch ignorant gone

walking

cloud moulded rain dried peasant
ramble-wide parishbound
leaflit gold as klimt
rich as a breeze on the meaning of seasons
pass pilgrim pass
to harmony

K. H-H / A. H (22nd November 2019)