what has always been ~

tornadoday

when I see you again

when day returns to shadow
and dust –
resigns to dust
when words are sworn to silence
as treasure into rust
when the last goodbye
is spoken
in a language few will know
when vows are broken
as truth unfurling
at this quiet letting go
the soul decides
of stories cleft –
an ache for what has always been
when the name we wore
in living
becomes a whisper
on the wind

. . .

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