Gravity chosen,
objects float,
eyes closed.

Read between the lines, she said.
Sounds travel mondegreen in the winds.
While diaphanous figures dancing above.
Read trough the fresh washed cotton.

Naked in the earth. Grains sip trough toes like an hourglass.
Nor an end nor beginning, only sand.
Connected trough light years, penciled in the stars.
Time shatters into pieces.

The perfect time

Time to let go of a situation that has ran its course.
Reminder that as one door closes, another one opens.
Not to exert your time and efforts on staring forlornly at the closing door, rather than looking forwards to the seeing what is behind the opening door. Open these new doors and heal from any pain or sorrow that accompanies the transition that you may under-e-go.

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