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seen from United States
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Night Slip
The night slips through my fingers. So does time, And the sand in the hourglass, And anything else that could stop my hands from falling off the edge. I fall down the snake to find myself back at the first rung of the ladder. The darkness flees, Shadows washed away by the coming day, And there is nowhere left to hide.
Sketch a Day 2802- PumpkinHead turnaround- 10/14/23
There once was the storie of sirens, luring at open shores, sitting on rough peaces of land peaking out, waiting for sailors to get their ships wrecked in a blissful trance, caused by the sirens voices. But theres much more to it. Them beeing otherworldly beeings, mirrors of the land, showing up as illusions, echoes of those walking the beaches, seductive, tempting, laying in the shores, flirting, trapping men into their sensual kisses, their muscles, their skilled hands, rolling into the waves, deeper, deeper, never come back...
Taking inspiration from voretober... tales
de sal
cun berro de mariñeiro dos teus ollos que son os dedos da túa mirada
o mar extinta navegación da cinza a mar sombra da luz na túa humidade
desertos
@ksjanes: Feeling touched by how softly one color merges into the next. Moved.
© Manoel T, 2021