1. We sit and we talk, not of much but of little. I see the moon, the moon sees me. I would smile but it would be meaningless. I wouldn't want it to be. But in the landscape of tilted heads while the sky sheds skin on my body I feel my voice quiet to a halt, and This is where I am. You in this light feels new/woken Woven deep until the roots touch dryness against the fallen limb of oaken. This place speaks. It says many things of Nothing, makes no demands, and offers no salvation.
