“Younger Poet’s Reply“
I hear what you say about self‑inquiry,
how it begins without announcement,
but for me it arrives in small shifts of light,
a sense that something in the day
has turned its face toward attention.
Solitude helps, though not in the way you mean.
It opens a quiet field where patience
moves at its own pace.
Criticism lands gently now,
not as correction but as a way
to understand where the line wants to go.
Love & distance feel less like spacing
and more like a rhythm I’m learning to keep.
Sadness as transformation still surprises me.
It changes the scale of things
before I know it’s happening.
Childhood memory moves beside me,
steady as breath,
while art & nature keep offering
their unhurried conversation.
I’m not sure where this leads,
but I can feel myself becoming.
.
