What is it about ink that lets us think we might yet have a chance to dance our way ever deeper into the unknown world?

Surely, a stray mark shows a way to the heart, the part where we start to find a place of empowerment to compose?

This page, this poem, this underneath, where code blooms its way into words, contains only fraction of my voice, entangled with echoes of yours, sustained connections

mirrored by friendship in reflection