The blossoms are calm,
and yet still, she sings for
the heavens within, the white
heron bows to the sea water,
it sees the clouds of night
touched by lunar wind, the
lucid paintings of seagrass
contemplate the presence of the
poet floating upon the waters,
and say to her, “you too,have wings”,
the lights beneath her
as dewdrops, bright as cricket
melody, the lone lantern glows
in the silent hour of all, where
the artist’s senses awaken
as ripples of butterflies
opening, the petals in far
flight ask her, “are you
I?” , her starry form is light
upon the mirror of the moon,
a ghost of time and being,
she held a secret, the
beauty of imperfection
decorated her as the
stars, the heron asked her, “your
nature is delicate as my feathers, why did you wish to hide?”
she sung back “I hid because
I was afraid, I loved in a world
of no love, I realize now,
to reveal the amygdala
that lives in color is to be
brave in a world of grey,
to be delicate is a strength,
to have tears is to have power,
to paint your emotions
through eyes and lips is grace,
being is the greatest gift”
she perceived a divine
revelation, “I am human,
light and dark, I release the
suffering”, her hands floated
upon the water, the sounds
of the ocean echo the
endless journey, she becomes
the milky amber dream, night
has turned to day, the flower of
the sea has found her home
in the embrace of the one whom
loved her before existence, she spoke not, for
all the songs have already been sung,
the eons have spoken, softly, she closes
her eyes in the heavenly warmth,
there is only the whisper, “I have
returned to you when I was never lost”
