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the silence of a library in summer
is pleasing
one pencil's drop is as deep
as an ocean
its sound ebbing towards my shore
of attention
from one end of the room to other the shadow
of people gone
only a custodian and his keys celebrate
this momentous occasion
At last, it is I and every book alone next to the sunshine
of a glass window 🤭
Heaven revives me in the littlest
of moments
genocide. on a strip. because the rest of was taken years ago-
fear & anger dominate the bombs. where is your clear mind?
people are people. violence is a crime. where is your compassion?
I am trying to walk this way
north, towards the northern star
but i do not care to arrive at the northern star
I simply look for what is in that direction
I weep with my little pains huddled
like toddlers around me.  
They were so sweet
in their patience with me, waiting
until I was ready. Now I hold them,
their tiny faces giddy with excitement, as I abandon
the ground of functionality for a wilderness
quiet at their side
working through your feelings
its in the practice of little devotions
that everything we dig up
can be turned into treasure
or at least a map of where to
or where to not find it
i still have an old memory of my grandfather who lived his life at such a fast pace moving between countries, coming and going from relationships tell me that he wished he paced himself and that he hoped i would have it in me to pace myself. to slowly dig up my treasure with consistency.

i reflect now at how consistency is build through little acts of discipline and devotion who knows if what i want will ever be but i am happy in heading towards it and the optimism is enough to keep seeing the bird in the sky and appreciating the puddles that form.
Someone is ringing the bell; I no longer know who they are but I feel the clapper’s reverberation.
make yourself known
I wish you all the happiness of a spring yielding to summer braver, old friend. Please understand I mean no harm.
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