But if you let your soul go? Let it wander? Would it eventually come home to you? Was it like love in that sense? A thing you had to set free to experience? Even to encounter?
“Stood pooled in porch light
Cut my shadow off with a dull knife
Whispered in its ear, then sent it off into the night
Set the trap for the mice, the rats
Whatever’s in the pipes
Corner of your eye, the edge of the white
That’s where I live, I’m set for life“
billy woods | “houthi”