In truth you do not
lose yourself
but find
you do not split
apart
but mend
you put your hands together
dear
this music
that you heard
you hear
it plays
for You

🌠

You sit by the window
watching the trees shake their last orange-brown leaves in the wind and think
absentmindedly
what to wish for

A breeze
gentle
brings
this realisation

You're not
in need
of anything

...

One foot in sea one
on shore
you
secured
your Being
down to the
roots
of the roots
and up -

out from your core

A house
not as empty
as you may think it is
I'd fill it
with a sun and moon
and stars if you wish

But first
you
come in here

They're still highways
That take you here,
But they seem less so.

Somewhat more like trails,
A hardpan of sorts,
Beaten through the hills.

They're still streetlights
That bring you to a stop,
Painting the wet streets in red.

Somewhat more like a twin dusk that
Demands hesitation, and patience,
To wait for the green dawn.

A woman in orange cloth crosses
a dusty street
cluttered with
dusty fears and believes -
she straightens herself
nods
before she greets
all of them kindly