6:37 PM.
early september.
follow me,
called the sun.
and so we did.
up and over the hill,
bike wheels on dirt road
cool breeze in loose hair
the world on fire.
an open field
tinted by the filter of late summer.
we run and spin and smile and talk and sing and laugh and live.
the world is broken.
it's battered and bloody and bruised
damanged and disfigured and distressed.
but it's also this,
whole and joyful and jubilant.
we're alive.
and so
we dance with the sun.
8:24 PM
early september.
it will get better,
whispers the sun.
we forget we ever doubted otherwise.
early september.
follow me,
called the sun.
and so we did.
up and over the hill,
bike wheels on dirt road
cool breeze in loose hair
the world on fire.
an open field
tinted by the filter of late summer.
we run and spin and smile and talk and sing and laugh and live.
the world is broken.
it's battered and bloody and bruised
damanged and disfigured and distressed.
but it's also this,
whole and joyful and jubilant.
we're alive.
and so
we dance with the sun.
8:24 PM
early september.
it will get better,
whispers the sun.
we forget we ever doubted otherwise.
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