SMITTEN

SMITTEN

Everlastingly unfolding
We attach ourselves
But then that’s our choice
No blame, no blame

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 September 27, 2018, in Wee Poems and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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