The Golden Myth
I woke with the taste of copper in my mouth and the memory of a field that did not exist. It was a vast expanse of wheat, golden and burning, stretching out to a horizon that seemed to breathe. In the dream, I was not a man. I was the soil. I was the stalk. I was the grain. I felt the sun not as heat but as a weight, a crushing, loving pressure that broke me open. I felt the wind as a blade. I...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen