We are
Consumed by the wind,
As the autumn leaves
That leap from the hillsides.

So we write,
With our darkest ink,
Passages in the sky…
Letting our afterthoughts
Mingle in the gardens
Of heaven
Like careless birds
In early spring.

…testing the emptiness
Of existence,
We listen through the silence
For Grace.

And she says,

“Wake up…”

With the tap of morning dew
Upon my ear.


Morning Dew

the blind man and the rain

As the rain returns
To its dark earthly slumber,
The blind man,
Feels the sun upon his eyes,
And a stirring is born
In the clouds.
When your cinnamon kiss
Rests upon the newborn wind,
The earth chases it,
Leaving mountains in its struggle.
He hears the rivers fall,
And baths in the thoughtless lakes.
It rains, when the winds of love
Forget your kiss,
And when everything
Is eager to remember you again.