Night, quiet mist
Once, I heard a song
that lifted heart like this:
notes the sound of
sleeping, sweetness.
When silvered stones
gleam like horse's eyes
pausing under moonlit pines:
the weightless-ness of
light is captured, briefly.
River, liquid black
a dream I've had where
instinct loses reason:
we learn the speed of
darkness in our blindness.
Rose, unfolding organ
I've given to the poor, the thankless
words of comfort, open hands:
attracting moths, a flame betrays
the beauty of its brilliance.
