A flying bird song
Feathers of wings taking shape
Soaring through the sky
Steam carved through soft ground
Creek flows onto the river
River flows to sea
Leaf turning through wind
The sun bows down to the moon
Tree silhouettes sky
turning towards sky
Become the flowing water
Returns to the blue
About the Creator
S.R.Daley
fiction writer. World creator. Brainstormer
Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor4 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Vocal has inspired me to attempt to write other forms of writing that I would never have considered