We're always talking about "it." It is glorious outside. It is a shame. But what IS this "it"?
A dream sparks confusion, wistfulness, and mystical possibility.
i dont want to leave my bed/where things are/ soft and edgeless / like the ocean
I woke up in utter confusion, my body half-off the bed, my mind buzzing with questions.
A former Buddhist monk got me thinking that time is a horrifying illusion that we can transcend.
The passage of time is horrifying to face and acknowledge. But can it lead to something beautiful?
No More Content
