Sky by Thomas Wells

Everyone owns a piece, a furrowed canopy casting dimness and light, a measureless magnitude of rapture and defeat. We are Prince Andrew at the battle of Austerlitz, on our backs surveying boundless lofty firmament. surrendering to tranquil silent drifts of stratocumuli, finding our meagerness within the scale. In temperamental squalls, tormenting dark wrinkles restless with despair, fling violent raindrops, hurtling us into prolonged deluge. But … Continue reading Sky by Thomas Wells