I Hope You Find Your Time Here Well

As we go the wall rises between us, a perfect silence. The divide is measured with the tired and sick. What should we know of death? How many times has it been since we last met? Going down river, a young man’s bitter mystery is combed back through his silver hair. As the stars above drew silently across his back, without his knowing, a constellation appeared, a map for his return, for a man died today, onboard the ferry boat Vellejo.

– Josh Fleming

Words Inspired by: Frost, Whitman, Wordsworth, Hughes, Yeats, Blake


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