A kiss between the brows
is not a flame nor a claim
nor a contest.

Its incense rising from
a temple left behind.
It's a wreath laid across
to honor the goodbyes.
It's the key which unlocks respect.

It builds bridges between souls,
like light crossing water without a ripple.
It forgives without words,
like snow melting over old wounds.
It anchors memory
like moss growing on the stone of time.