To what can I hold on?
Is there anything that I have which can be let go?
This belief, that desire, this pain. Already gone.
Everything is constantly becoming what's next.
Day gives way to fiery sunset, then to the quiet of night.
In-breath will always relax and breathe out.
I try to hold your beautiful smile so I can feel love forever,
but it slips through my fingers like a handful of water,
into the stream of now, of This, of...
Carol Barrow
June, 2018
No comments:
Post a Comment