The Quiet Thread

Though distance spans between us,
an endless, echoing plain,
you are a whisper in my thoughts,
a thread that winds through every day,
binding me to the beginning of myself.

I hardly see you now,
the moments lost to time's unyielding tide,
and words between us come as fleeting
as desert rain in a drought of passing years.

Yet, your voice still hums within me,
a melody I learned before I could speak.

You are the hands that shaped my edges,
the quiet architect of my being.
I trace the contours of your care
in the way I turn towards kindness,
in the patience I muster from nowhere.

You live in the hidden alcoves of my mind,
not loud, but steady,
a constant rhythm beneath the chaos,
like the echo of waves against a distant shore.

I carry your lessons in the marrow of me,
etched in the quiet codes of how I love,
how I endure.

Though I cannot reach across
this expanse of silence,
know that you are the unshaken root,
the still centre I return to
when the world becomes too much.

And when I think of all I've left unsaid—
the thank yous strewn like autumn leaves,
the apologies that linger, half-formed—
I awaken to the depth of your grace,
your love, which asked for nothing
yet gave me everything.

You are always there,
even in the absence of your voice,
even in the space where we should meet.
And though I hardly see you,
hardly speak to you,
you remain the pulse beneath my solitude,
the unspoken constant in my life.

I hope you feel this quiet love,
this tether that cannot fray,
the way I carry you with me,
not in the loudness of our days,
but in the stillness of all I do.

S. Tominaga AKA CSW
Nov 20, 2024
https://x.com/CsTominaga/status/1859232826647785776?t=_muyFnhbMtuYIpyQ-mFYDg&s=19

https://t.me/S_Tominaga/2103