A knotted string,
once untied,
makes one matter.
Not three-in-one,
but a full one.
A knot is a form,
by two forces,
but centers itself,
with no division.
Quite a harmony, isn't it?
As tensed it might be at the knot,
a relief is also with that form.
Take a land for example.
Comfort is that open space.
A house built on it, is what we call Home.
They are,
more than the land, the space and the house.
Comfort is the home.
There is something in the waters; faking blue but vast. As deep it gets, the deeper we could go. Danger in depths, risks away from certainties. It is a bet from comforts; a token spent, with wishes of
Oh save me. From the need to; take a second recall... feel a second rest... and receive a second report. But, isn't it what I am told? And I am just living with that. Like an apple going than growing,
I am touching my skin- an intimate gesture. They are one; feeling my chest is feeling my hands. It's a wraparound embrace. Have you seen a forest? It's so dense, with greens and wood. They may look d