Absent

We are the museums of absent things.
Love, sun, warmth, cats.
Tenderness. Money. Time.

In the scheme of absent things,
Nothing weighs more heavy
Than what isn’t there.

In the fear of absence, we lose
Ourselves and what we meant
To be.

Where there was a presence, there
Will always be an absence.
This is how we were born.

We are the empty museums of absent things.

R 11/09/2023 18:39