They just keep falling onto me.
Often, I brush them off.
I say, let me be.
I say, let me be.
But nowadays, when I have strength,
I hold them.
I hold them like they are fragile birds;
some of them are wounded,
some vigilant.
I hold them for a moment,
just enough for them to get back on their feet.
But sometimes, they need a bit more.
I hold them, as long as I can,
without burning my hands.
I hold them.
I hold them like they are fragile birds;
some of them are wounded,
some vigilant.
I hold them for a moment,
just enough for them to get back on their feet.
But sometimes, they need a bit more.
I hold them, as long as I can,
without burning my hands.
They all fly again,
but the sensation remains.
but the sensation remains.
presence, not ghost