It’s rare,

it’s deep, deep down,

It’s not blood.

I never chose the blood

just got blessed, so blessed,

and never chose this either,

but again, am so, so blessed.

So, what is it then

when the air is filled with joy, trust, knowing

when it feels like it, like blood

or maybe not,

at least not exactly

but so close?

You see,

a few looks, words, are enough

after much time

across many the miles

and the bridge is built across the ocean

the wide ocean of moments away, away in the distance

built in the golden sand, the sand of the forever promise

from your feet to my feet, our bare feet, our mortal little feet.

There it stands, the bridge,

in strong winds, all weathers

carrying us


I rest my mind on it

and my heart, too,

on the strong, weathered timber

when you are there

and I am here.

I don’t mind the splinters

when walking on it

to feel you near me.

I walk on over

at night

and so I see you

in my dreams.

You’re close in the distance.

You’re with me in the moment, even after months and during those, those many ahead.

So.. it’s not blood.

But it feels like it, like family.

You feel like you choose, but.. you really don’t.

I guess it’s what they call friends.

Such good friends.