//fire//
Is it surfing suns,
expelled by gasping sunspot
to lucky poet?
\\air\\
Is it in the air,
syllabic beat? When hands brush,
pulses echoing?
//water//
Is it in the ground,
sipping lukewarm well water?
Drinking from footprints?
\\earth\\
Is it there climbing
Mount Everest, breathlessβ
no more Sisyphus?
About the Creator
R.C. Taylor
I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, andβsometimesβto grieve but, above all, I write to be free.
Follow along for stories about a little bit of everything (i.e. nostalgia and other affairs of the heart).
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