find beauty; be still.

w h murray

have you ever ventured in a green coricle,
high above domesticity and found insignificance waiting?
where ancient horseshoes crowd a horizon,
damp melancholy put to flight and
silence met by Lily's ripples.
cradled amongst fell crags and burrows,
time does cease to pound; whisper softly
hear a breath expunged, a chamber emptied.
and dusty wings put to flight.

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