Like a graft in the tree of one’s life.
When we question we’re steered to ask
” Who is asking the question”?
It opens a chance to knowingly live in thanking
As an opportunity to stop the hating
And the repetitive watching what we feel about the future
As a thread running through one’s life

Each way you looked
You could not say
Which was the sun
Or brightness of the light
Knowing happens
Alone in the empty spaces
In an act as sacrament
Coming out of a fountain
of silence.
Remembering The Great Forgetting
I take my charge
The custody of this simple creature
I am host to of which we both
are but one
And now I’m in recuperation
On the mend, as life begins to stir
A sensitivity when remembering grows
Like new shoots, a pain that bores
Only in that moment of a falling away
Of the Foundling “me” in the Human condition
Exposing the space between two concepts
Where silent awareness lies
we take for a blank a nothing
Yet here is found not death
But further ways to live.