Zywa
Finethreads
Which is beyond
words, is present here
in the twilight, the secret
not to know yet
how it will continue
but to feel the net
coming together in me –
invisible connections
to the heartbeats of life
In wordless language
the breathing of the pipes
conquers space from the silence
in gently waves and then by itself
nothingness has become music –
new webs of finethreads
between sense cores
of souls once and somewhere
in confluent time
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