carson-bouquet

April snow. / God is waiting in the garden. / Slow as a blush,

snow shifts and settles on God. / On God’s bouquet. / The trees are white nerve nets.

Thought:

“

No Beast is there without glimmer of infinity,
No eye so vile nor abject that brushes not
Against lightning from on high, now tender, now fierce.

“

Victor Hugo | La Legende des siecles

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