One-line Poems

Threefold blossoms: tenfold more than tenfold. To some, evolution branches humanity out into existence. The hatchling of a dream: the perpetual movement of the species. Miscarea permanenta a vietii: visul pe care ultima geana de netrezire, de somn il atinge ca si cum ar sparge coaja unui ou. Waiting: the non-movement of movement. The noise in the mind -short-circuit- the straight line in life. In nature, corpses rolling in raptors' eyes reflect the sky: tearing off the flesh, the sky's tearing up. The night moth's freedom is viscerally acute as you hold the moth in closed hands. He was his own everything, yet she is his lost paradise. To meet God, to introduce yourself to Him, you won't stretch out a handshake nor will you bow. You'll only lend ears and knees will bend. You'll be praying. Words can bless or curse you, therefore you can love or hate them. Sing to nature and it will sing back. It's not the story that binds two people; it's what binds the story. You pass by. He raps as you do. It seems to be about you. Dedicated. And, then he calls out your name. Seek it, know it, preserve it, spread its wings but nothing of your essence too thin! I collect, I recollect. https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/652819/the-art-of-patience-by-sylvain-tesson/ Credits for the photo: Personal Archive Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.