I am the resonance of tonsils against the vault, a jagged hum
peeling back the velvet of the throat to find where the cords
hang loose and wild. Inclined to shake the marrow from the
architecture. They are not tethered to the scale; they are
free-strung, whistling with the draft of a thousand unspoken
currents. I am tossing a rock of ages, a jagged flint of the old
earth, watching it skip across the surface of the silence.
Each ripple is a syllable, each splash a sudden, guttural choir
breaking the glass of the quiet. “Olly olly oxen free”
Rated for Teens(13+)
…flint of the old earth
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Powerfully penned, Adagio. Excellent write my friend. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian.