6.5.25

The wind blowing again. Outside the window, a mulberry tree. Betrayal is a matter of fact. Returning home means departing from elsewhere. The closer we get, the more the thorns show. Even a shard of the mirror is an entire mirror.  The snow's melted, but the clouds remain. I think of you often. All the things I couldn't say, and all the things meant to die. After death, something deeper emerges. Cutting through stone, water shows its face. Try it. Open here and drink from me.