#cosmicwriting
…feelings dawn on me;
falling
but not like morning
...I am a sun surrendering
to its own horizon.
a moon that borrowed
light; a reflection
mistaken for source.
a dark letter left at
a gravesite, with instructions
to the afterlife sealed with silence,
addressed to whatever waits
beyond a final breath.
...I am an open field—
too ___ wide
for a goal to find me.
a foreign country in my own
skin; my body language speaks
in a dialect; few stay long
enough to learn.
these feelings aren’t
planned— they arrive
unannounced, unarmed,
undoing me.
yet they are the only
language I speak without
translation. so tell me—
is that loneliness
or design?
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 3:13 PM UTC