Over the edge
And up to the Moon
With wings made to fly
We’ll make it there soon
No Sun to melt
The wings’ binding wax
No Sun to block out
The void’s piercing cold
A Poetic Dive into the Creative Unconscious
Over the edge
And up to the Moon
With wings made to fly
We’ll make it there soon
No Sun to melt
The wings’ binding wax
No Sun to block out
The void’s piercing cold