There is nothing more
to say
to see
to listen to.

Don’t try.

We have scars on our eyelids
bodies falling
dust clouds

There are children for whom
it is already history
vague events
that littered the world
before they were born
Moses and Mother Theresa
as contemporaries
in shadow stories.

There is nothing to say
yet we can’t stop talking.



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Yet there is much more to*feel, within the realm of forgiveness, truth and love of y/our humanity . . .

and so we continue, lessor for what we have been and are, yet greater in the knowing of what we could possibly be . . .


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