It's been awhile.

I can't help but wonder if anyone still looks to see if I've posted.
My nails are really long and typing is hardish.

This grey wheather reflects my solitude.

gloomy grey billows from smoke towers
while layers of white and grey ashes form
neat piles of remembrance below.
Meant to rest as a decoration within a shrine.
Forgiveness is ...
comeing in small waves.

How does one decide which questions get answered by the flip of a coin?
and which to listen to heart about?
Perhaps with a quater.