I’ve gotten more 
used to you
gone than here
and I’m not
sure whether that’s 
good or bad 
good because it
causes a missing 
but bad too
because I get 
used to not 
I suppose that 
each day with 
you and without 
is but a
game of plucking 
petals from flowers 
hoping for even 
and not odd

Like smoke 
you appear 
after breathing 
then hang
around wisps
of you
once was
like a
passing fragrance 
a blossom 
recently bloomed 
silently caught 
causing pause 
like a 
rain shower 
brief it
may be 
bringing change 
to things 
how done 
you appear 
and disappear 
as quickly 
as secrets
whispered and 
stay around 
just about 
as long 

Peace is 
not silence 
silence is 
and peace
is enough 
in everything 
in love 
and time 
in harmony 
and joy 
peace never 
brings its 
mind peace 
never speaks 
peace is
the souls 
own air
coming forth 
from the 
eternal infinite 

Lots of square
pegs go into 
a square hole 
that’s too big 
better to make 
your own shape 
for your hole 
and then find
the peg that 
will fit you 

I will 
let others 
find me 
for looking 
to be 
ever found 
is a
game of
hide and
seek only 
ever played 
with oneself