The night after he was gone,
the house was quiet, still.
I couldn't feel him,
not his spirit or his aura,
not like I wanted to.
He had simply vanished.
I awakened my third eye
hoping that maybe she could find
a wisp of something
something my mortal mind could not.
And though she searched
probing near and far
there was nothing behind the cobwebs
only dust and memory.
It was then that I started to clean
thinking that a refresh
could resurface something, anything.
I collected lavender
from the bush outback,
some fresh leaves,
some dried branches,
I added words on paper
and lit a match,
watched it all burn,
the smoke rise.
until smoke signals
encouraged by the western winds
seeped into every room,
into every crevice around the apartment
leaving me mesmerized.
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