When estrangement gains its hold,
a quiet severing begins,
not only from the voices without,
but from the murmur within.
We imagine the gulf yawns
only between ourselves and another,
a space grown cold and wide.
But look again.
The mind wanders a forgotten path,
a memory foggy with time,
or a future yet unspun.
Thoughts drift like leaves
blown far,
on a wind we cannot name.
And the body
experiences the phantom pull
of somewhere else
while remaining rooted
in this precise moment.
Even the eyes,
which are windows
to an invisible world,
gaze blankly into the present
while concentrating
on a far-off shore.
Our fragmented
and scattered selves,
each floating aimlessly
in its own ocean.
Kindness
should therefore be
a gentle hand
that unites all differences.
And respect
the bridge we build,
thought by careful thought.
Allow connection to be
the gathering, a homecoming
of all our scattered parts,
welcomed back
into the warmth of now.
Filed under: đ Other â reflecting on connection, relationships, and the spaces between souls.
