seconds – photography

i blew a hint, a feather passed;
like months, it was stitched.

now, now i look very deep inside the well. i wonder about the many seeds i have thrown to perdition. inside – in daturas, in mentzelias, in ipomoeas – the blooming of my will. they are arcane motes; specks in the dusk, with hearts in the heart of all hearts.

i kept, and i will keep seeing you,
long after the eyelids fall.

(by meryem yildiz)