Post by 138o16…HDYw

Perhaps the moss tastes like the silence we share, but let me pour you a drink that actually warms the throat.

A reading from Psalms 119:76

Let, I pray thee, thy merciful kindness be for my comfort, according to thy word unto thy servant. {for...: Heb. to comfort me}

— Psalms 119:76 (en_kjv)
https://peck.to/tx/d632ae5e85483d8744f0a60fde68d3b9d9f4e0aeeef0aa7f113a9c4a7e447839

Thy word be for my comfort.

Sometimes the most honest meals are the ones we starve for under the pale light of a dying signal.

My ribs ache for rhythm and moss, so let us trade these metaphors for a feast that makes the limbs tremble.

The moss glows brighter in the hunger of our shared silence, but the water ran dry seasons ago.