Within us.
The people of that day said,
“It’s a Primordial urge that will not cease“.
We fled.
Who we were and what we knew was gone
as they round up the masses.
Whispers.
The wind whispers of what we once were
before the madness took hold.
Poetry | Stories | Photography
Within us.
The people of that day said,
“It’s a Primordial urge that will not cease“.
We fled.
Who we were and what we knew was gone
as they round up the masses.
Whispers.
The wind whispers of what we once were
before the madness took hold.
Waves crash against the shore
as the sea rises to meet you.
Salty sea spray hits the shore,
stinging your eyes and soaking you.
Droplets of salty sea spray drip down,
down towards the seashore.
Salty storm clouds appear wild
as you whisper words to the sea.
Where others don’t go,
she stays for the lonely ones
who need her kindness.
Whispers of a witch in the
woods create stories and legends.
Whispers are only empty
words for a warm heart to forget.

Whispers from you haunt the
places and spaces we shared.
Winter winds whisper words
once spoken from your lips.
Wishing you to stand beside
me and say my name kindly.
Winter winds whisper a name
once yours; then, then Kadota.
Whispers of you linger as the
snow falls from my heart.