A dark dream, a flood.
A circle — sin, penance, thoughts of penance.
Why must shame devour everything?
I think of the other bodies.
Do they bury themselves each night too?
A dark dream, a flood.
Can poetry save anything?
Must it?
This long night beside the candle —
can I let it be,
free of the weight of darkness,
the ruins left by floods?
Rest here now, beloved.
Unburden yourself of shame’s frayed basket.
Gather the threads of ancient song—
Celtic whispers,
Hebrew fire,
Vedic breath.
Let the first fire that ever lived
travel through time to touch your face
with its primordial glow.
Rise.
You are no fallen thing.
You are the dawn carried in the hands of gods.
🌺
I know this bird.
In a new color today, a new song.
Loves me the same.
🌺
Sits on my shoulder,
tells me about the world,
without words and without signs.
🌺
Rests on my lap.
🌺
So gentle are we,
two silhouettes,
unchanged,
time after time.
Why must we ask the morning to always be beautiful?
The weary can hold their empty stomach,
sleep through the endless night.
The nature of Samsara is suffering without an answer.
But we were given a heart.
Mind can’t be the enemy.
World is the world,
just that,
Samsara.
Tear is real though.
Tear is real.
Tear is real.
Surrender.
Grief, grief,
the mountain.
Surrender.
Grief body thinks of the red autumn leaves from this morning,
not the soft but the hard last moments of decay.
There should be a pause here somewhere for this season,
tears should stay dignified.
Water feels the wave
as she jumps towards the skies,
catches her back in the light of the moon.
The gray clouds had an opening.
Pink soft silk lining the blues.
First morning of winter,
a feather, a prayer.
My speed had changed.
My eyes had a vision.
The room is full and noisy.
Play sounds and cries, laughters.
Black worry
suddenly disrupted
by pink lotuses.
So pink,
the embrace and the fragrance of love,
unexpectedly breaking rocks.
Beyond the black night’s window, what lives?
A black sea or a lake with reflection of the full moon?
A creature, not a woman?
Stars emerging from the water,
making a whirlwind.
Dewdrops on the skin of a white snake.
What lives beyond this side of the world?
Moonwater 