looking for words to give a friend but there are only ink trails
Time Thyme waiting for the flavour of life to return
"Bless you", I say and turn away. There is no comfort
I understand the inner winter and the toothache of the soul
and wanting it ripped from your head and words herbs seasoning winter

being still
being quiet
enjoying the peace of breathing
being

erebus and kali

I feel so far away

stand back from the feelings and yet let them in
let them move through you like a curtain of silence and shivers
and breathe out the circling/spiralling thoughts
from Ithaca to Montauk and return
there is only distance and whispering dreams