Today as we sit without words,
Gracefully the bountiful now
Escapes from the mind’s glancing touch.

While living we curiously touch,
And disappear in whispered wind,
Embraced by the bottomless now.

Then reformed as when becomes now,
With a thumb to fingertip touch,
This breath a releasing of words —

Relinquishing words in this now that we gratefully touch.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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