Sunlight filters through the curtains
and falls on the floor
Cups of chai
are leftovers of our sunday morning
The cold air is quiet still
as if awaiting
poetry

I enter a deep state
of solitude
where soft whispers
are uttered delicately
like wildflower garlands
where worlds meet
without judgement

Where I find you
in all the patterns that come together
to become
a gathering
of me

O Beloved,
this magic of you
is the life pulsating
through my entire
universe