Floating plushie

Light green replaced by dark green after a few steps in time Moses has taken.His return - she following suit, in his footsteps, going a little further, with confidence - the lightness in the younger age would give, in the wonders, in the makings.'Miss, do you miss...it?''The more you give, the less you take''Should this be a fair deal?''Cast-waiting as in cast-shadow'For years, not light at all, she's been questioning the 'take', whether anything, anything at all, will be hers, whether she's been foot-stepping, or step-footing life on her ownterms,terms;terms:whether her take on it would be the 'take' or just the 'give'.'Some will never have a fair deal, just a fair share of...''Never say never'Her return - moving forward, keep moving forward; receive, not take; give, not m...possess.Photo: Freepik

The lambs are dancingwhile rolling rocks on the shoulders of the hillsThey are singingwhilespitting salt on the bottom of the sea(...)they are dancing and in this dance there's us... ...... ..... . ... ... ..... ... .... .... ... ..................singingLiam Read's Photo on Unsplashhttps://unsplash.com/@liamread

HUMAN CONDITIONThey call it a heart. I call it the lack of it.(...)Your baby's hair grows. short Of ages of desire, Of the beat of innocence, of the last touch of candour.It grows.(...)Photo: freepik.com

Spare the sun the view it has on treesBarks that you peel as you'd like to get itwhy they don't complain (as we dowhen skin peels softly into ages of beauty unsure if only young age you'd call beauty)when their bodies fall to ground, to die, already dead or just moving into another state the micro universe feeds on(...)Photo: personal archive

Old her crammed into her vanitiesslipping her hands into time's pockets.This pocket having as big events as chasing eclipses on a starry sky, or vice versa.Verse in, vice out.The pat on the shoulder from the child they used to be, a peek-a-boo kind of sign,with a grin on those small, freckled facesreliving it once again in wrinkled memoriessuffering from not finding the fair sharebetween the past and the future.Be once again in this together.The otherness is not a thing they climb the ladder foris not a thing that happens to manyIt is one almost no one strives for when there is as much as the future can holdInsane to remain restless when you need to rest from all the burdens, flat out - there is a voice that whispers.There is a little space unfilled, or rather filled with nothingJust when you decide to jot the square into a diacritical mark called roundness of a shape unknownFlattened the Earth once again into your hands, also called 'Mmasticated grass as the path flattens out'Called as in 'named after his father's treacherous behaviour'No saint is there to praise his doings.Spend as little as you can on thisSleep wrapped into your dreamsThat prevent you from taking actionwhen you wake up.Photo: freepik

A Man of Halves (Canibalove)He bites off the whole of her as if she was no halfHe eats her entirely as if she were no halfIt sounds terrible though it isn'tIt is a story where in order to exist you have toCANIBALOVEAs that is the highest form of love:There is no half way to hell or heaven(...)Photo: personal archive

(...)Not until neighing has become the voice of nature in the barking of the dogs,chirping of the birds and scattering of the windNot until you've admitted wholeheartedlyNot until you've disgraced yourself that you've been graced(...)

that's why dreams are...instead of dreamingof beingwho you're not, be you.Someone is taking a picture of youOf you next to a king and his queenMaybe it's you taking night snap shotswhile dreaming of becoming You.

This horse has only one masterThis master has only one horseThey brush the skin off of each otherand eat its pores into the undulating Nature -closing the eyes, everything a Gaussian distribution -they never ride away withor eat it off -an entirely different story:as they inhabit dreamsas they ride the waves of fortune or misfortune,not knowing to tell one apart from the otheras they suffer the sheer cry-touch of horror,absence of the loved one brings about,coiled, forgetful of the nimbus of light at the end of those days.This master only rides this horse.This horse.Photo credits: personal archive