"The Samsaran Scrolls" by Voima Oy
Beat was the word on the streets, beneath the waning moon. We were heading to the diner where the red-haired waitress was our Muse. We were poets in the alleys, we left our words on the walls, as we wandered in the labyrinth in search of the Samsaran scrolls. We would write on napkins as the waitress smiled and poured. High octane coffee, dark as the open road.
All around the streetlights, papers flew like moths. In the shadows, faces sharp as knife blades beckoned, as something was unrolled. And we could read between the lines, the lightning in the words, the flash of a new generation.
First appeared on MicroBookends, 1-22 BEAT/GENERATION (1st Runner Up)
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