Thaumaturge: Shadorma


Fancy that
The magic of words
You love me
Then you don’t
Schrödinger’s cat in a hat
A conjuring trick

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 October 24, 2019, in Poetry, Shadorma and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink. 11 Comments.

  1. Oh my…now that is a paradox about love that hadn’t crossed my mind.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Love seems…just so fickle at this point.
    It makes one wonder… is it really as unconditional as everyone says?
    Or are they just buried under fine print in the contract of life?

    Liked by 1 person

  3. I especially like the Schrodinger’s cat reference. 🙂🐈

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Really like this, it speaks to my very thoughts! I have missed your insights and wit..

    Liked by 1 person

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