he thought of her.
Her was his being.
The one he held on to…
Like he held to the time
on his hands.
On a cold winter morning,
The traveler left his footprints behind;
Of his un belonging to this land
And his belonging to the
somewhere so far.
Dream on
The sun could not pierce inside
the thick branches...
But it could easily pierce inside the naked
snow covered ones.
The traveller was perplexed;
The traveller was not fearless today.
Something was eating him;
Like his soul consuming himself...
Just like the sun consuming the snow.
It was a relative phenomenon.
Seeing the snow disappear...
And seeing something inside of him disappearing.
The sun only for a few hours...
couldn't melt the snow entirely...
The traveller looked at the few leaves
holding on to the branches...
Did he wish to be held?
Yes!
By whom he wondered?
71