Falling to the Inner Self

289/ Full bearded, he stands before the mirror wanting to trim excess years, falling to the inner self, the hidden identity—
Today’s post and the last five verses relate through a loose connecting chain of events. Suffice it to say, a small idea has been brewing in my head, a social commentary/fable dealing with ramifications of human interactions and the Natural World.
Through Winter
Ruined Bell Tower
Remains a Constant
Collective Overcoat
The issue at hand remains is what format to present the plotline, slim as it is at the moment. For now, the Old Man is nameless. His landscape is buried in winter. The timing of his century undisclosed, yet hints towards a medieval period. He remains an isolated individual, locked in memory. Through the ramblings of recollection his story is told with an indirect moral of the present.

Perhaps it will remain a casual experiment.


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