A flower with no soil can still blossom in the most unlikely places.
Bristled brushes stroke the breeze. A poem of profound movement.
Micro poetry doesn’t need to rhyme. It just needs to leave a bigger impact on the mind.
To understand, I must forget. It’s the theorem of “Equivalent Exchange”, an unbiased regret.
Failure, outlined by mistakes, is a water-colored portrait of blood, sweat, and tears. Judge too quick, the piece will never be finished.
Evening sails lift, never worn. Patches of light can be seen. Torn by constellations.