458. April 30, 2002 Darkness is but shadows made, gathered from too many corners. Rolling like tumbleweed across the empty expanse. Emptiness becomes a reflection, of all that is not within; barred from the silence that lasts from dawn to dusk.
458. April 30, 2002 Darkness is but shadows made, gathered from too many corners. Rolling like tumbleweed across the empty expanse. Emptiness becomes a reflection, of all that is not within; barred from the silence that lasts from dawn to dusk.
|
|
|
|
|