Attuned....

everything slips away
ah, that usual feeling of sands thru your fingers
water from a cup of hands
air inside your nostrils reaching your lungs
giving it back
in a single sigh

one becomes an expert at expulsion somehow
yes wasted but not consumed
feeling the loss but not fearing anything anymore
that way of embracing rejection
like what happens to everyone else
we're all in these
suffering yes, but not that long enough
one masters the pain
and does not talk about the details
under the moon
darkness turns out to be a home
silence a favorite
recreation

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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