Witching the Stars #19
Updated: Oct 30
The faster the clinging
to pieces beloved,
the greater the fear of a loss.
And so wrought with dread,
gentle hands become stranglers
lest all the sweet love shifts to dross.
Yet opens the day
when the teeth set to gnashing,
for loss, for death certain will fall.
Let it go - wisdom whispers,
for happiness waits
in transcendent, desireless halls.