Your departure has given me such a cosmic pain that it
can not be assuaged by somebody's empathy or effort to talk.
It's not a scratch on skin. It's a wound on my soul, a part of me.
Neither do I have the slightest desire to share it with people
nor do I possess the ability to translate it into words. It fiercely
uprooted my beliefs and connected me to my sense of wisdom
in tandem.
.
.
.
This soreness causes uncontrollable restlessness but
does not demand anyone's concern, because it is
finding it's way to bloom and wishes to further alone on
the path.
.
.
.
Before you came to fulfill my soul , I was only an ignorant
wanderer holding onto everyone, everything .
After you are gone, it's only me and the eternal flower
of sagacity blooming effortlessly in the light of your words.

© All Rights Reserved