The salt air in your nostrils, as
The waves lap out their lullaby;
The soul that is, is one that has
A right to give up on the “why”
For maybe, it’s not ours to know.
It will, it must, it needs be so —
The way we feel, but cannot guess,
A pattern that is patternless
The soul that is, is one that has
A right to give up on the “why”…
I fail to express how this stirred me deep within. ❤
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It seems reassuring to me that I don’t need to have all the answers.
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