Who are we?

Carrying the wonder in our eyes, we keep moving one step at a time, at times, jumping across yards. The human, the roles, the speechless tumult of emotions, at times, only a distant voice.

Love has finished itself, they say. Oh! there is nothing imitating love even. What is, is not.

So, who are we?

Just lost, I say. Just lost. Until someday, we pull the masks off and participate with our full beings. Transient moments those. But, full moments.

We lift ourselves on our toes, stretch out our arms, and bowing to a pose, we begin to dance. The cosmic dance. Full dance.

So, who are we?

We are half-moments, half-selves, half-stories, waiting to become complete. To become full.

Who are we?

We are fullness.


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