In this rift, this gap, this space between decision tree branches, when one (me) finds the time to contemplate the past and its affected future (the effect may affect or feign affection), the meditative moment blinds.

Is blinded.

Opens the drapes and pulls the blinds.

‘Tis what is.

Here.

Now.

My father’s breaths approaching their last.

At some point.

Sunrises and sunsets counted in ones.

One day at a time.

One hour.

One minute.

One second.

More thanks to make but they’ll have to wait.

I have my goodbyes to take.

An evening to meditate.

Mein Vater zu danken und zu verabschieden, um die unbekannten Welten können wir Ruhe und Gelassenheit …

…if only he could have the strength to correct my grammar one more time!