The Dance Within the Scent: Poetry

Sometimes words
are disjointed,
limbs without a body
that wrap themselves
around us in
a circle of inanity
Isn't it something
that after all this time,
the form you don't
wish to take
is the one that fits
you best?
The realization of
mortality is
also the same
moment you 
realize that you've
never truly lived.
The summation
of a person
can only be found by
walking in their shoes.
I remember you,
the stranger standing
by the tree,
your silence strong
and fragrant
But do you 
remember me?
I'm the dance
within the scent...

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