I’ve placed a tincture within you, as jewel.
Don’t search for it in your irresistible body.
It’s in a different place.
It’s best in fact you forget I’ve told you.
For a long while.
It will find you; you don’t find it.
It will summon your piercing curiosity.
When the moment, the fate, the situation warrants.
And flood you with a haunting certitude.
That’s when you’ll be on the clock.
To answer this riddle without willfulness…
To detect destiny’s aroma in passing, undistracted.
Deepening some remark into revelation.

I’m not boasting — it just happens like this.
Not just with me either,
I just seem tuned to suffer its awareness of late.
Karmic threads locomote not like crows fly,
Nor the way appointments litter agendas.
They oscillate in spiraling harmonies
When wondrous wormholes open proximities
Between events in scantily acquainted galaxies.
Then you could know it:
There was once a singluar intimacy passed between us
Whose wake was enormity itself
Though neither lips, limbs nor tongues found physical paydirt
In the haze of that selfish now.


[ Image : artist’s depiction of a wormhole. ]

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