In Pursuit

Spun and twisted dust
glided like ghosts
with hems that touched
the earth that woke
abruptly –
to warn me of your departure.

I waited…

Stoic, as an obelisk;
umbrella-d the sun
with indifference,
purged the night clean
with empty prayers
of your return,
asked cradling zephyrs
if you ever
whispered
a farewell but
you never did.

So I cut slits in the air,
tore wormholes open,
veined through in vain
and followed you
through multi-verses,
solely finding
ionic remnants
of the supernova that
echoed our uni-verse,
still,
negatively charged with
positive hopes;
the only scripture I read as
absolute truth,
but I was always
a black hole behind.

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