Parched in the desert, we thirst for that which we forgot exists, but it's our souls that know, and our souls that moan, and our souls that are calling us home.
It's beautiful to see our longing for the non-verbal so deftly verbally expressed. Captured succinctly with soul. This feels like what an exiled poet could have written on his scroll. I hope three hundred years from now they find this and regard it as a true reflection of our period!
It's beautiful to see our longing for the non-verbal so deftly verbally expressed. Captured succinctly with soul. This feels like what an exiled poet could have written on his scroll. I hope three hundred years from now they find this and regard it as a true reflection of our period!