meditations after the forest rain

December 10, 2012


winds barely brush though

the wind chime struts its sound,

drops of water in the forest

join the melody in ground.


though            as they struggle to sever

                            all ties to the form,

the free-

            -dom of free-

                                -fall ends

In return to the norm.


I stand here mid-thought, forgotten

mid-drop bottom of the core,

grasping all, no, there’s nothing

heaven's cracking, all is pure.


crash landing,             back,

                        to planet,

            -back to rusting back-

                        to rotten

finding safety in the blossom

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