Time Lapses

TIME LAPSES

Time lapses
Into emptiness
Hung in webbing of
Indefinable echoes
Between moon phases
Again
It’s now
Alone

About Ben Naga

The Spirit that graces me with its passing has no name and stems not from thoughts and words, though it gathers them up as it flows, but from feeling.

Posted on January 29, 2012, in Poetry, Writing and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 10 Comments.

    • Rereading it at this moment in the knowledge you have read it recently, I felt – for a moment – that we were in that same moment of silent peace and harmony. A good feeling, non?

      And as for “beautiful” ?

      Well, they do say that it takes one to know one. 🙂

      Like

  1. Your skill in short work is amazing. Well said!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Beautiful poem…something so hard to describe, so well captured here.

    Liked by 1 person

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