(no subject)
There were two trees, two lives, two worlds. A bird in both, though through the darkness they could not see. So they sang to each other through the abyss of time and space and love and lust until one day the other flew away. With no-buddy to sing to, the darkness grew thicker and the silence was never so infinite.
But now and again, on wings of the wind, the song of his lost slid back. With an ear to the moon and one to his heart, he sung back to his other. Filling his forest with that other than light, and as his chest heaved into the dark, he hoped that his lost, somewhere, was singing into the light.
But now and again, on wings of the wind, the song of his lost slid back. With an ear to the moon and one to his heart, he sung back to his other. Filling his forest with that other than light, and as his chest heaved into the dark, he hoped that his lost, somewhere, was singing into the light.