18.01.2026

Old robes hang loose,
their seams exposed to the light.
What once did bind now loosens,
thread by thread.

I count the days like beads,
each one a prayer pressed into fabric,
each breath shaping form
from what nearly unraveled.

Between harmony and chaos,
I pause—
at the mouth of a cave,
where every enigma
still dwells.

Not lost.
Not found.
Only listening,
drawing water from the same deep well.

🌜🌟🌛

💫Maggie

The Afterlove Voice 💫