Writer Between Worlds

Soulful writing about humans and places

everything feeds on 
everything else, we all dissolve
into the bodies of others -
a joyous play of alterity/sameness, we are all
milk, bread, honey, meat, wine for this
cosmic feast, this
orgy of the gods.

all of us just a fleeting,
elusive, embodied drop of pureness.

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My inner mystic is plagued by insomnia and runs entirely on divine grace. The outer shell, however, does occasionally need: jasmine tea, ice cream (preferably salted caramel), good books, music, and new horizons. If you’d like to help keep this blog alive, please choose an amount:

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