Just found this little guy in an old watercolour book. Day off work today.
Been doodling a bit on paper to free my constraints. Pleasant.
Words hung in the airs senses.
Time travels through lives
Witnessed, real, imagined,
Surreal, from the unreal and real.
Filling space with heart. Existing,
leaving to question its birth.
Story tellers souls are moments
of everywhere and everyone.
The worlds tale heard.
Just words, but we breathe them
with our souls wrapped inside
everything’s silent hope
The journey of hearts – ours
The story of being human.
On the drive home from my evening job.