If I can cry my soul,
It is only for
You.
I
Whose heart is made of
Silken nets miss
You.
I
Whose plane wanders
Circumambulate
You.
—

stillness that spins, noise that calms, memory that vanishes, emptiness that fulfils — all within
what’s missed has all been met at a point for a moment then time pulls the wanderer to keep the journey on and on like a subtle network full of signs and wisdom about the beloved
happy long weekend with no interruption
💕
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