Bindu

In the pinkness
the petals breathe
deep,
flow as blood
to mist the sky.

The leaf
is spectrum of colors
in greenness,
like density
that defines emptiness.

The thought moves
the mind, with it moves
breath on
butterfly’s wings:
silence.

Between your words
space – you do not own it,
not like you own a house.
What you own,
without them you can exist.

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