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
Feb 9, 2020
Feb 9, 2020 at 5:56 AM UTC
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