006e25d5f93c5908e9295c648d9e7d94by Stefon Napier02 Aug 2013

Summer turns everything to stone.
Only the present exists and that too is idle.
We stay homespun like hometown hummingbirds.
Glory to ancient myths creased with silence.
At ease, crossing vastness and drifting like leaves

Like the way we turn our backs on our own truths.
Standing still because in all the directions the wind is cunning.