would it be death?

poetry bleeds in
around the edges of our pain and distractions
it peeks around the corners of our suffering and pleasure
the samsara cycles of this existence
poetry holds our hand
over shaky bridges into uncharted territories
I am
leaking poetry
overflowing from these experiences
it comes in spirit codes
in a language that is
both familiar and foreign
no matter who you imagine yourself to be

all at once I miss the rain
and I am strangled by longings
that linger like unwelcome guests

what would life be without them?

without the struggle
would it be death?
pleasant?
death
and release
a way to cease
longing, yes
a way to cease longing
a way to peace

so many roads open
I am so hungry
for travel