Rolling in a stream of thoughts,
That’s roiled by beliefs and oughts.
There’s a symmetry to this place.
One that often gets replaced,
By illusions, by my blindness.
With dissonance and great unkindness.
It’s the self-torture of a soul,
As it tries to become whole.
I know that death is not a death.
But I weep ‘til I’m out of breath . . .
So, I’ve lost this little thing.
I have the pain that loss will bring.
My baby’s on the other side.
From my embrace, she was pried.
Deep down, yes, I do know,
It was time to let her go.
Let her go, is what I did.
And with that, I am amid.
I’m amid hope and amid grief,
Amid sadness and relief.
Everywhere I look today,
She is never far away.
On the leaf, in the drop,
Of water resting on the top.
A wink, a nod to what I feel.
And more, yet to be revealed.
The stream of life has not ceased.
I feel it with my friend released,
From her fictious earthly bounds,
Into the all that surrounds.
My friend, I feel you here and there.
My friend, I feel you everywhere.
Thank you, friend, for that time.
I am yours as you are mine.
© 2022 TheRememberings Ltd.