there is a dilapidated curtain
hanging on the window in my room. dilapidated.
filtering the fledgling morning sunlight, free
of worldly encumbrances. unhurried.
the light coming through is a stranger to my room. nonchalant.
It works like water though. Blends in without qualms. diffuses.
Fills in. It is music. buddha's meditation. dissolves in the quiet.
the curtain is silent. it has not thought about happiness.or meaning.
it is my friend.
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