So we’ll live, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies…
And take upon’s the mystery of things,
As if we were God’s spies.
Where I draw and paint and write poems and essays. And collect texts from my reading, like a crow collects tinfoil.
So we’ll live, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh
At gilded butterflies…
And take upon’s the mystery of things,
As if we were God’s spies.