tanka
my ancestors fell asleep, on chilly autumn nights, overwhelmed by countless stars. i count them on my fingers, between streetlights.
my ancestors fell asleep, on chilly autumn nights, overwhelmed by countless stars. i count them on my fingers, between streetlights.
many who think they’re improvising are following a script written in stone many who think they’re reading the score are making it up as they go along if you think you know what you’re doing think again, and play along if you think you don’t know what you’re doing think again, and play along
to look, unflinchingly, into the eyes that everyone agrees look back with hatred, and see the human heart that animates them, and meet it with your own
if you haven’t held a wrong view, i don’t trust you. but let’s hug, and talk.
“they gave their lives” is a phrase we shouldn’t forget. how will you give yours?