The echoes still linger
The echoes still lingered in woodwinds of singers the words of the poet forever’s repeated but never gave its solace to us, the sinners cause his quill has gone dry […]
Author Archives: Björn Rudberg (brudberg)
Chimeras are for real
All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream By Edgar Allan Poe When the faintest flames in gloom is all we see, or the sounds […]
Lacerations
The words that lacerated sentenced sentences, inked on parchment from the ancient laws are left to be deciphered later in the antechamber behind the door of this, your dusty crypt. […]
A guest in spring
“But the beauty is in the walking — we are betrayed by destinations.” ― Gwyn Thomas The path I follow feels unfamiliar, but there is strange reassurance in being a […]
To care in vain
The diamonds in the trickle formed from icicles in spring or silver sieved from moonlit lakes is a poisoned potion served in breakfast juice. It’s a gradual decay. It’s to […]
Björn Rudbergs writings 