Write My Name Across the Sky

by Barbara O'Neal

The Buddhists I’ve known are calm, thoughtful people,

The great tragedy of aging is not the loss of the supple body but the illusions we are forced to leave behind, one after the other, like a string of pearls from a necklace.

The hollow ache returns to my chest. I wish I could see him just one more time.

Music is born into you.

far, far away from that time and that place, I feel tears on my cheeks. How did I not realize that I would never stop missing him?

realized that I was in love with him. Had been in love with him for a thousand years,

Be here now.