Melting icecaps, warming oceans, setting sun, sleep
Neruda, Leviathan.
Antarctic outland, nearing or passing me – an ice field displacing the darkness – one day I shall enter your walls, I shall rear on the sunken marine of your winter, your armory .
When we go down to the low-tide line, we enter a world that is as old as the Earth itself – the primeval meeting place of the elements of earth and water, a place of compromise and conflict and eternal change.
Mary Oliver Sleeping in the Forest.
All night the dark buds of dreams open richly. In the center of every petal is a letter, And you imagine if you could only remember And string them all together
Mary Oliver Sleeping in the Forest
I slept as never before, a stone on the riverbed, Nothing between me and the white fire of the stars But my thoughts, and they floated light as moths Among the branches of the perfect trees.
Kanika Sircar Studio 