XXXIX

Three cords from my body
The first is love
The second, truth
The third is light

Like a child, I sit cross-legged as I braid
Working the fibers between my fingers
They polish my hands and smooth my skin

I am weaving a path for that which moves me forward
Too often disguised as steps

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XXXIX

XXXVII

They are the keepers of the lake, the watchful pair
You can find him on the water, eyes closed, heart open
You can find her on the land, arms as welcoming as the shoreline
Waiting for small boats like mine

XXXVII

XI

The creases around your smile mirror the creases around mine.
And with time, I learn them better.
More permanent when I close my eyes.

A shared communion, this reflection.
A joint in the wood.
Some measure of joy.

Let this continue, I ask to whoever is listening.
Let the lines deepen and tomorrow let me recount the stories hidden in them.

XI

I

How does it happen? The love that fades and the love that grows?
Into nothing. Out of nothing.
Destruction & creation, following blueprints, but there are no plans to follow.
Only a dimly lit road that I walk.

So to know love, one foot goes in front of the other.
A quiet meditation.

The path is right until it isn’t.

 

 

I