What is it?
What is it?
A quiet miracle that happened to me on an ordinary day;
soft as breath, and silent as dusk.
An echo of my longing,
and the calm that follows.
A story writing itself,
through my silences;
line after line,
never asking my permission.
never asking my permission.
The one absolute thing
that drowns me in feeling, yet leaves me dry;
pulling me toward the world of unspeakable,
stealing every word I try to hold.
It lives between knowing and wonder,
between loss and arrival;
the question I carry,
and the answer that carries me.
between loss and arrival;
the question I carry,
and the answer that carries me.
- Sarath Meleveed