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A recorded reading of “Photosynthesis of the Soul”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
In a stillness carved from colour, I stand — blue as a half-remembered dream, rooted in a silence I cannot name. Above, my thoughts unfold, delicate stems reaching skyward, each golden bud a prayer pressed into the waiting air. I am no longer flesh alone, but something born of seed and longing, a blossom of mind taking root in the mystery of its own becoming. Near me, the bright squash rests like an echo of earth’s older tongue, reminding me I am stranger, half-ghost among the harvest. For a moment, I shrink — afraid my borrowed roots will fail, afraid the sun might scorch what is not truly mine — yet wonder stirs within, this gentle alien bloom, tethered to me, through me, teaches a quiet faith that even those grown from different soils can rise, and face the blaze without shame.
Lyrics
In a stillness carved from colour, I stand — blue as a half-remembered dream, rooted in a silence I cannot name. Above, my thoughts unfold, delicate stems reaching skyward, each golden bud a prayer pressed into the waiting air. I am no longer flesh alone, but something born of seed and longing, a blossom of mind taking root in the mystery of its own becoming. Near me, the bright squash rests like an echo of earth’s older tongue, reminding me I am stranger, half-ghost among the harvest. For a moment, I shrink — afraid my borrowed roots will fail, afraid the sun might scorch what is not truly mine — yet wonder stirs within, this gentle alien bloom, teaches a quiet faith that even those grown from different soils can rise, and face the blaze without shame.
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