As spring creeps up the mountainside to greet us at Vanaprastha, I think about the various ways we say hello and goodbye. A handshake or clasp, palms together as in prayer, a salute or touch, asking, “How are you?” or “Have you eaten?” or in parting, “Until next time”...
How beautiful, the fragile wings of unseen things How terrible the transience of misplaced dreams In my pocket there hides a scrap That has written finely ‘Je t’aime’ Unguessed by you there hides a key To the portal you’ve search for, to me Stars glide, spinning in...
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