Place your hand on my chest,
Feel it
the ribs splintering,
breaking with the rhythm of breath.
Touch here,
calm me,
so I might tune my heart again.

I hold my breath now,
listening for the creak of melting icebergs,
the groan of ancient battles,
the ache of sorrows long fought.
I lost my companion,
my shadow,
but still,
I chant the echoes of the past.

I can hear the wind chimes,
their soft tintinnabulation,
swaying in the breeze.
How I long to return,
searching for a time machine
to take me back to the divine,
to the moments untouched by this present pain.

Am I truly seeking peace,
or merely fleeing from myself?
Does comfort lie in the past?

Someone once said,
“Just live in the moment,
nothing is left behind.”
Only memories
woven into the fabric of time.

Once, I believed,
I loved those memories,
kept them safe,
buried in a hidden basket,
the only treasure of my heart.
It remains sealed,
unopened,
yet now, I see
beliefs are like broken glass.