Corridors between
The peaks draw songs from wind, but
Rocks keep dreams silent.
How does it work?
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.
More stories from Steve Hanson and writers in Poets and other communities.
In frost, mountains hold Winter. But, above the clouds, Dream of secret suns.
By Steve Hanson3 years ago in Poets
The English language has its limits. I learned this when I became a student of the Bible and looked up the Greek and Hebrew definitions behind the Scriptures I loved. Some languages have so much more depth and power than the one I use to convey my thoughts. But, even so, I don't think any word could ever come close to describing this void and pain I am journeying through. I don't know how to swim through its murky waters.
By Shirley Belk5 days ago in Poets
Painted (as a) whore, offered as a bribe, fathered by the greatest rapist masquerading as graceful feathered force. Taken from a king, given to a second son,
By Harper Lewis5 days ago in Poets
Note from the Author: I want to let you know that this is an unusual story, and it has been written purely from whatever is in my unconscious mind, because before I start writing, I get into a flow state that reaches my unconsciousness. I also write in my subconscious mind, which is like a mid-flow state between the conscious and unconscious mind.
By Denise Larkin7 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.