‘Everything and all existence is connected’,
then we will always be, and so we will always
Kneeling on the dying repercussions
of an autumn caught just within the colder breath
and tentative icy touches of winter –
its fruition yet to unfurl –
I turn to face the dying winds.
Cradled in my arms, the flakes and fragments
of all that is left.
The tangible weight echoes
the palpable loss I carry –
you have gone from my world,
and left it empty –
inside of this vessel, microcosms of dust
make it as empty as when life
ceases to be – but, inside of here,
you also become extant.
I can hold only that which would not fall
through my fingers, so
I will imagine a springtime that will come
to intrude on
this time just so a butterfly
can perch on my finger –
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