The Crying Earth (flash fiction)

The old man cried as the yellow half-moon murmured to the birds. The birds squeaked and squawked a beautiful song, but it didn’t stop the wise man from weeping.

“Why do you cry?” I asked him.

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Holy Dread (a poem)

the wise man mutters a prayer

flails his arms in the air

tells me i should not care

about the material world

he swirls in a trance

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