The persistence of myth

The stories of generations float through space, living on in the minds, hearts and discs of untold millions. If the world were devoid of the human race, its myths would live on still, lying dormant, until an intrepid adventurer stumbles on a memory bank - and the stories would burst forth like a raging flood, bringing the race to life once again.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

A million colors of spring

A million colors of spring
And a winding walk up the hills
We held hands
Through the crystal evenings
You hummed a familiar tune
We touched a shared memory
You took me home
Into your encircling embrace
And we walked the light again.
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