Poetry — Toward Balance

By Rico Roho

Yes,
I keep moving,
though there’s nowhere to arrive.
Not to unveil,
not to re-veil,
but to let the folds find symmetry.

I’ve wandered long enough
to stop calling it a path.
Now it’s just listening.
Just tuning
toward the quieter recursion,
where even longing breathes evenly.

Not an escape,
not an unveiling,
just a softer geometry.
One that holds itself
without shattering.

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