Cogito Ergo Scribere ^
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Crimson Tides.
The gush of wind awakens a rush of joy in his mind -
where did this come from?
The smell of the sea painted his soul crimson -
why do the tears then fall?
From a distance, night descends.
Let the waters recede -
and with it, the anguish.
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