I to You

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

💕