HAPPENS STANCE (Thoughts Are Faster Than Words)


(Thoughts are Faster than Words)



echoes through time,


then together,

in beat-beat.


in the membrane of the each,


suddenly, by the both.

the turn-around,

the time in Life to say

i no longer regret,

i get it;

to face the face of the comings,

and goings,

of sweet roulette.


chanced upon; time and place.

those who find you,

only to be found themselves,

in return,

by what they say.

intercognition ignites release

in laughters,

interactions, and passions;

the unsought found,


by the simplicity of iteration.

the caught breath,

the realization of seconds:

that begins can be ends.

to see, finally,

that to look back negates what comes,

and so you blend.

the willing gate,

each so aware, and so alive,

invites evolvement,

the nebulous commitment,

to be as imagined;

to release, and respond,

to surprise.

for each new gift

is each second, moment, and time,


in those breathless trusts,

comes the melding,

of what could be,

by being

one by one,

with another.

spirits gather,

in the space that we provide.


and onward,

we trust the next words,

gingerly alive.

what is said,

and unsaid,

leaves the lee in which to be.

the fineness of trust,

how it seems,

then comes to be.

growing, knowing,



emboldments, alike,

and true,

allow the balance,

the give and take,

of all with which we’ve been imbued.

curiosities matched,

innocent, and aligned.

unspoken things, but questioned,

throughout a life of times, relations;

equations of want vs. need.

we are not taught

that our souls

are allowed to lead.

but lead they do;

the hidden voice of choice.

the hither and thither,

cacophony of voice;

words themselves can corral,

or stop a stead.

they don’t tell us,

in formative years,

that this is how we are lead.

but intrinsic it is,

and so by that,

we hear what we attune to praise.

we relegate ourselves to be dear:

staid postures, gestures,

words, used again,

as nuance of manners,

cons, dissensions, or grace.

but one singular echo is the one

that can spark your heart.

a tiny syllable,

an inflection,

can bring another world in,

and so it starts.

a tryst, a wish,

puts forth a plea,

a want for completion,

by relinquishment and receipt,

broadcasts a finesse,

finds a like-kind,


and in that moment,

comes the possibility.

so sweet the tether,

one would wish for forever,

but by their therein,

they both know it can only be acknowledged

by the way in which

it is received.


Graphic: Depicting Her Essence, by Tania Sen

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