Staying is a form of haunting.
I don't know
whether it's the mind or the heart
that refused to let go,
incessant, untouched.
My trail steered towards
their station,
a cerulean sky,
an ekphrastic response
where the jigsaw-interlock
of sand grains mocked
the subtle imperfections
inherent in any life.
So you joined the dance anyway.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 12:09 PM UTC
Staying is a form of haunting.
I don't know
whether it's the mind or the heart
that refused to let go,
incessant, untouched.
My trail steered towards
their station,
a cerulean sky,
an ekphrastic response
where the jigsaw-interlock
of sand grains mocked
the subtle imperfections
inherent in any life.
So you joined the dance anyway.
August 9, 2025. Westwards in the clouds above the Pacific Ocean. Flight from LA to BJ.
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