Winter Dew Drop

All of time is spent swimming across an ocean of discarded ideas; of devastating depths from the intermittent tears of wisdom; creating a silence that drowns out the world with its mystic rhymes; spending long enough soaked in these waters helps formulate a train of thought or two at times. As some do make it up to the sky and then there are some untimely deaths. A glimmer of hope, these incomplete thoughts, that drive my obsession to seek the end. Giving me reason to go over the sickle bend. Unfinished melodies have always been the music I craved, for pleasure fueled by anticipation is the most lively of all.

© Abirami

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