Wings

Bristles against a coarse canvas, you’ve dabbed a mixture of white and pink and flipped your board on a landscape, back resting against an easel.

What direction should you spread your wings on this ending dusk?

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Feathers

Angels fly over our heads, and we remain intentionally unaware and ignorant. Every trip they make, they leave a gift in harmony – a flock of white, elusive and sweet yet innocent feathers, drifting in a soft samba, playfully manipulating the gentle light of dawn. They leave a message in shadows, a reminder of what we naturally fear – an image of a withered moonglow. They smile.

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Spice

Turmeric.

Haven’t you always wondered what brewed in the open meadows of jasmine and saffron flowers?

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Watching from a dimming light

People walk towards me. People walk away from me. People walk side-by-side and forget what it means to have a spine. People barely walk on their own, but do so anyways. Some people attempt to walk with stilts but have never used one before today.

Can’t you, people walking past this lamppost, walk properly around here, or has society made you forget how to do that too?

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