Leftovers for Dinner
Love is what is leftover
when truth prevails
and the fear
of being deeply seen
burns away.
it is both an art
and a divine collision
the meeting place
of vulnerability
and our innermost
magic.
“I have lost my dewdrops!” Cries the flower to the morning sky that has just lost all its stars... All bleeding stops eventually. I am but a collection of particles, atoms that chose to suffer in unison.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home