❖
Beneath the surface
memory still breathes.
memory still breathes.
Through worn hands,
through leaves and flowers,
matter remembers itself.
through leaves and flowers,
matter remembers itself.
An imperfect world,
cracked by time and soil,
yet far more real
than the luminous screens
of this forgetting era.
cracked by time and soil,
yet far more real
than the luminous screens
of this forgetting era.
