A lotus flower is resting,
I feel perhaps it feels
gentle while bending as
if looking down at where it
once came from.
I can't help thinking the
number of times I have
believed it is the end of something.
Give it a day, a week, a month,
a year and the ending
doesn't seem like an ending anymore. Nonetheless,
some things stay with you,
like a lump in your throat.
People, places, things, moments,
they stay and although once
you thought you could
never imagine life without it,
you find yourself living,
breathing and moving
without that person, the place, the thing.
We move on,
but still carry it all with us.
And sometimes, we forget
we are carrying the baggage,
because we have been carrying it for so long.
This is why I think
endings are beginnings...
Just with baggage.