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Ricardo F. Morín

November 17, 2025

Oakland Park, Fl

1

Some encounters begin before language is ready for them.

Two minds meet without settling.

Nothing takes shape, yet something unmistakable occurs.

The truest account is the refusal to explain.

2

Certain ideas resist inheritance.

Two ways of seeing collide briefly, then separate.

Meaning leans forward; form steps back.

The moment matters without offering a reason.

3

Some connections pass like weather fronts.

They do not teach; they alter the air.

Nothing holds still.

Memory keeps only a shift in the light.

4

Some experiences never fully arrive.

A brush, not a presence.

A pulse without source.

What remains is the recollection of almost remembering.

5

There is a threshold just before silence.

Perception moves, finds no edge.

The air changes, just barely.

A faint trace lingers, directionless and unnamed.

6

There is a stillness that gathers rather than empties.

It reveals nothing yet asserts itself.

A held breath before form begins.

Being, unclaimed by identity.

7

Tenderness sometimes appears without announcing itself.

A nearness so slight it restores by existing.

A small warmth rekindles what had dimmed.

Then loosens, but never truly leaves.

8

Some forces do not arrive; they simply are.

They seek no interpretation.

Existence affirms itself without intent.

A brief spark of the world recognizing its own pulse.

9

Energy releases its need to be something.

It does not vanish; it unravels.

Nothing returns, because nothing was apart.

Dissolution restores possibility.

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Coda

The cycle erases its own footprint.

Everything returns to its opening field.

No conclusion remains—only quiet.

And if anything rises again,

it will come without memory of having been.