Sometimes we find ourselves standing between two worlds as the veils dissipate and the liminal mist envelops.
Knowing a new destination is certain but there’s nothing you can pack.
Lists are of no help anymore.
Those that know know.
And their silent knowing is nectar.
These are the days of the in between.
When all is drawing to one certain focus point.
As you wait for the future that does not exist yet.
The one that is being woven between breaths.