I crave what has been unspoken while this home is left ablaze
With us nothing is passable - not even an extension of opening
the vast fields of vision before our very existence
Speak to me in remembrance as there is no light if we can't
hear the way the wind speaks there will be no peace
Speak to me in trails of ceremony - of serpentines caught
in circles - the presence of what one calls Spirit
What I consider holy
Speak to me with endurance in fragments of being
that make up the silence of essence
The memory of what was once so quiet

The death of cherry blossoms green fruit moon leather
seek the story sing oh of speculation
of presence oh of your understanding

Is love truly enough?

HS