The Caravan

The crescent moon far far away in the dark sky or the sound in the air that passes by me, There’s a part weaved from them inside of me.
The green that I see in the trees or the tranquility in the water I feel, I possess the same somewhere in my being.

This sense that I feel, I see or I hear. Do these trees, this water, this air, do any of these feel me anyhow? I think they do. More than their piece that I have. There’s a piece of mine there and here, far away and so near.

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