About this Playlist
November is a tender month, so I choose the chrysalis. It will metamorphosize the grief with a grace I don’t hold yet.
The arrival of sunrise shells says it all. No one knows what it means to be born from these colors, to be seeded in sheltered soil is the bounty and burden. Is that when the sovereignty of the sky is chosen?
November is a tender month, so I choose the moth. The grief found in wings is the grace I must always remember to learn from.