Wither Gone
My mind’s a blossomed grain
and I sway in fields of remembering
being held by sweet earth while a cool rain
soaks low, my wither’s gone.
The will to live is strong.
The clear and savage moon
speaks plainly to the tide’s rhythm inside of you
reflects through foggy mornings on the shallows who
give soul its steady shore.
Each being affirms wave roar.
All veins flow from source, sweet home
Her kind light shows
each blessed branching bone.
The meadow opens unto me
Old sky teach me to…
Set root in what you behold
Bear fruit as the blossoms unfold
You stand on a glowing threshold,
now walk paths of living
As my dawn light burns gold.