poem 5 of 365

Delicate plucks on broken strings bring melancholic melody. Disharmony brought to tune, closed ears hear angelic muse in the broken and the tired.open on the close shatter when fixed an infinite nothing living in everything and emptiness within the mind's eye, ever still in the pace of life no matter the distance the body still in one point. Find yourself in the wonder of touch and open towards new dawns and simple nights.

to gaze on distant beauty inside the shape of stars, bring froth an inner wonder of woeful ignorance that days could bring such wonder that moments are all a string that never ends so will you continue, that pass along far distant stars and back once more for day.

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