A pure, hopeless, undying love; a desolate and cold apocalyptic lament.
Those who have struggled in the torrent of history are not just names that have lost their warmth in the cold annals of history. Like all humans, they have lived, experienced sadness and weeping, laughter and sorrow.
I want him, and the people around him, to live again in my writing.
Intention: Already aware of the vastness of the universe, I still pity the green grass and trees.
