There is always more.
More to those nights spent writing and rewriting,
More to pill-bugs and cloudless days and lost promise,
More to loving and not loving and loving again,
More than this bare existence
In spite of loving you I will never stop searching
I have been searching, I have been
Searching in the ground for flowers and evergreen roots
For you. Don’t you dare say there is always more, more
More is the end. More is. More
Leaves me behind to rot with the leaves of last fall.
More white fire to burn the Earth of clouds
For you.
(2025-12-29)
Zoe Pian 