Heart of bone where the flesh linger a bit longer in the center. The harvest has passed where I was and has yet to start where I am. The clock lost itself within the compass, between the numbers and the infinite circle but we are all going forward.
I have no claim on life but death doesn’t own me yet in the liquide balance of your world.
Amazing how your creativity with photography and your philosophy with words mesh. Well done.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you Frank always a pleaisure to read you as well!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. 🙂
LikeLike