Till we meet again

I do not believe in beginnings,
because beginnings have ends.
My love,
don’t bid your farewell so soon,
by asking, “When?”.

We have yet to bloom the seeds,
sown before the birth of eternity.

Don’t call this a union,
a reunion if you may,
and perchance we get lost again,
(because sometimes mortality can be love’s bête noire),
Till we meet again“.

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Traces

I try to trace myself back to the origins- the unfilled, untouched, unblemished- because I am sure no one would be born like this. I am sure it has taken years for me to build so many walls around but I have this unusual faith that they were not always there; not so much a justification as a release or liberation letting me restore my faith in them; that after all, something had led to them, that they were built because it was needed so, and that it is okay to demolish them after a while as time comes and that in the meantime I can allow myself to come to terms with them, decorate them if I may and reside peacefully until that happens; that there is a ‘going back’ for me, that there is a home in the wilderness, a purity in my dialectics, a door in the walls.