We lock eyes, forever hovering between that moment of contact and that moment of forever longing.
Month: September 2020
The Song of an Ancient People (A Short-Form Poem)
It begins as a hymn and a simple whistle. But as more and more people gather, it builds up like a mighty crescendo.
The Meaning of Life (A Mid-Form Poem)
For every breathe of life, there is a sigh of death. For every act of kindness, there is an act of hatred. For every moment of joy, there is one of sorrow. For every beginning, there is an end.
Leon R.M. Auguste 