Unvisited

I have been away, out of contact with myself, lost in nonaction. 

Unvisited, I drift. 

Is love reaching me, but unfelt?

If I’m not in the service of relating with love, receiving and giving love [always] then I’m not living. 

Then I’m not me. I’m not love. 

I know who I am, I know why I’m here. 

Yet, I forget myself, my purpose, and who I am.

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