"The fields whisper secrets nobody dares to hear: what was, what could have been as husks blindfold the light; what diverges instead whispers blasphemies. Stay there, beneath the ravage of wind, for no heart should pound this way in its mesmeric remain. Yet they sow, they reap, they breathe because, despite cacophonies, grain endures the insipid truth..." Continue
"Among thieves and forgotten gods, one's reflection becomes the other, stark yet mutual; trembling hands on withered stalks become default's permanence, long shadows dance with shame. No one in barley fields breathe the obviously broken truths of kind and kin deciding while crickets gossip of earthly ruin..." Read More
"Under a clock that ticks only despair, the grain murmurs metal songs no hymn should dare hear; silent wishes propel winds brazen and unspoken, soft embrace to a horizon unreachable, shamed by growth. This is the price of truth, this is the begrudging embrace of solace..." Discover More