By Virginia Jasmin Pasalo

 

WE are bound to meet for a short period of time, before we move on, to places we have never been, or to places we have been before. The experiences are unique, appearing to have come from the same source, but may be coming from universes we can only glimpse, with our limited senses. How very close we are to the unity, the holiness, the infinity of our being. How truly magnificent our tiny subatomic existence. The moment is precious, when our breaths become the powerful waves that change the direction of the clouds and the movement at sea, the turmoil that ushers in the tranquility, the friction from which melodies float along with the debris, the chaos that gives rise to symphonies, the confusion that in the end, calms and warms the heart.

 

In transit

even this pain is fleeting

like the clouds, no matter how slow

the dance, or how fast, or cruising

even your voice on the other end

where the line holds tightly to a kiss,

seconds before I start to miss

would have quickly ceased to exist.

 

Dust in the rain

magic, do you believe in magic?
from fairy dust you came
in a moment gone
with the cold wind
before we even kissed
magic is tragic.

 

tomorrow, will you come again?
a tragedy unfolding into pixie dust
flowing from the heart
of a Pixie Dust Tree?

stay, don’t go!

 

gone again, in a wink
in the blink of a fairy’s eyelashes
leaving me with a fairy dust
ground from the liquid heat of Mother Dove
and I become a pixie
and I can fly!

 

to you.
and it rains
my wings are soaked, and I cry
so many tears to dry, in the rain
with dusts of green
and dusts of yellow
and colors of the rainbow
I breathe the colors of the rain
my wings are born, again.

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