Categories
Poetry

There’s some barbed needle making its way through my chest.

It throbs, but I can only let it sink deeper.

For, if I grasp tight and pull, it will only resist,

And swiftly put me out of my

Precious misery.

Categories
Thoughts and Entries

Thoughts in Autumn

I think that the trees are happy in autumn. Their heavy cloaks are cast off, and their lanky, springy arms stretch a little higher than before. Their simple forms are on delightful view – branches pierce the cold air, and brown bark starkly contrasts with the frosted sky of the season. Moreover, they have sweet rest; rest from the hasty making and consuming of food, and instead live contentedly on wealth already stored up. They will soon exist in numb half-consciousness that renders the weighty, cold snow not a burden, but a divine embrace; a heavenly, chilling covering in exchange for a green, earthly one.

Gustav Fjaestad, Hoarfrost and Stars