THE QUESTION
Do I take a breath or does it take me?
Then again, does it really matter?
When I am with you, my Friend,
questions do not exist,
just the space from which they arise
and the feeling of fulfillment.
Here's as simple as it gets:
nothing is happening
and so is everything.
both at the same time,
someone is born,
someone dies
and someone writes this poem.
Just a few minutes ago,
at gate C-12 in the Dubai Airport,
a small child left her mother's lap
and handed me a single potato chip.
Just one.
It was a feast.
Before the hour ends,
I will board a plane for a very long flight,
but I am already home.
Posted by Mitch Ditkoff at July 17, 2024 04:51 AM
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