You know
How it is
Of course
You know something

… At 6
… At 16
… At 36
… At 56

And at each point
What you “know”
Is vastly deeper
Than earlier knowings

Yet nothing has changed
It was always there
To been known
But you weren’t yet

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on March 18, 2015, in Wee Poems and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. dawnofdivinerays

    Reblogged this on Dawn of Divine Rays.

    Liked by 1 person

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