a dream journal evaporation
give me some marching room to expand
in the night for fireside times gone by
where pesky sarpants killed them all
in caves where meditation chants down
upon trails lit by the moon songs
joined by the bears who wanted to seek
I screamed at the top of this sacred peak
posted by Adam Christian Smith at
2:16 PM
I'm the shape of an imprint left in the stone holding leaves into pools with cool water feeding the birds of our heavenly father hoping they hear what the wind whispers near from a song forming silver strings for a chance to fingerpick seven campfire sticks around shores of eventual healing hearts.
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