madowoi

By madowoi

Fallen

Not slowly wrought, nor treasured for their form
In heaven, but by the blind self of the storm
Spun off, each driven individual
Perfected in the moment of his fall.


Snowflakes, by Howard Nemerov


Not feeling so great today. Maybe I wasn't dressed well enough on my hike yesterday? Easy to get paranoid over every ache and pain these days.

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