Years That Ask, Years That Answer
Winter storm.
Question marks
fall like snow
on shoulders bent
with seeking.
Hollow caverns
where certainty
once lived
echo chambers
of why.
Face pressed
against cold glass.
Fingertips trace
what cannot
be grasped.
Footsteps
soft on unseen paths.
Autumn leaves
crumble
in cupped palms.
Dreams, half-formed,
scatter
like dust
through fingers
that cannot hold.
Shell splits.
Light finds
the crack,
makes home
in broken space.
Seeds
in soil dark
with surrender.
Emptiness,
the deepest cup.
Time spirals.
Winter storm,
spring light
dancers
forever entwined.
Seasons turn.
Seeking becomes
soil.
Purpose
in the endless round.
Morning
breaks endless night.
Golden light
spills through spaces
carved by questions.
Rain-clear words
unfold.
Dark landscapes
reveal their faces.
Stumbling
was beauty.
Coffee steams
in morning cups.
Mystery
becomes
the ground we stand on.
Sacred spaces
hold golden light
poured by doubt's
careful carving.
We are
spiral dancers:
asking,
answered,
broken,
filled,
home.
Copyright © Dr. Padmashree R P | Year Posted 2025
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