lost is not a feeling
it is a place at the corner
of your lips..or
a clock ticking time
spent in waiting.
it is a sense of not knowing
not having a sense of knowing;
the circular, endless path.

how would you be
if you were not?
or
if you were the breeze that passed though the trees
through you
into you.

how would time be if you
broke one of its ticking
rocking handles?
would you be able or unable?

lost is not a feeling.
it is your finger tracing
a moment in time spent
looking in the rear view mirror
watching time fade
into a distant memory.

somewhere a cloud begins to resurrect from its own losses and
elements conspire.

that first drop of rain-
and the parched land
reshapes itself
slithering snakes
of water running down the
landscape-

owls, crickets, ivy grow on you
feet sink into soft welcome
ancient steps beckon you
fall into a rhythm
let flow from you the universe
          and be found;
lost is not a feeling
it’s the way the day begins in
absence
            and
ends in solitude-
the placement of eternity
along the outline of the crescent moon
tracing it with your finger
turning it till dawn
circular paths
have no endings.

…

Dee is from lahore. loves old trees, words and surreal nights~