The earth moving below your steps,
succinctly traveling,
there is no hurry for sands or stones having all the eternity.
And although you throw them, steal or manipulate,
always seeing the coming through of the history.
In the existence of such mute sound
Yells despite being quiet.
And in its throat, with brief nuisance
it can be felt the howling that to tear apart you wanted.
But even so; Silence. /
The desert falls silent within its vision,
to the coast and sea he thanks for the humid breeze brought. /
In the lands that from night to day although changing scene
passersby go,
some animal too;
some free, others with chant.
The sand always pacing their lives.
The steps above not so.
Because its history is hers alone
And the storms are enough.
by a k v
About the Creator
A K V
In our times a bit dispersed, and appearances of futurism, saturated of information and varied solaces to satisfy the consciousness, or subconsciousness, of thousands and thousands of individuals. I post here and there a few little texts.
Craft Over Catharsis Challenge Winners
Craft Over Catharsis? What the hell does that even mean? The phrase came out of a curation meeting as a genuine question. We had been noticing that many challenge entries, across prompts, naturally gravitate toward trauma, grief, and personal reckoning. That makes sense. Writing is often cathartic. It's one of the ways we process what we've lived through.
By Vocal Curation Team7 days ago in Resources
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