floryn

you were once a tiny seed, and now you’re my whole world.

wandering lost

what if we are ghosts, wandering lost 
confined to an unknown — yet familiar — place
thinking we still linger close to friends and family
living what feels like reality — just repeated memories? 

grace and longing, peace and sorrow,
all the feelings that we carry,
they weave through time, both light and scary,
then how come the hollow stays?

what if this endless loop never ends
we remain in places time forgot
might some gentle glow appear

if only we begin to see?