I have a candle lit and look out on fog hiding the ridge, and revealing softly the green of trees.
What comes?
Ah, something comes.
Connection to Source
Until this moment, I didn’t know
I was like a cormorant with metal or string
tied around my throat
so I could not swallow
the fish I captured until the fisherman
took the catch
and let the ring go
Now that cultural catch, that ring
dissolves in meditation for myself
full movement in the throat
allowing me to capture my own thought
rising up from seas within -
I nourish free of cultural ties
that make an other, so rulers can rule
dishonoring a rhythm where animals
feed, niche, nourish
and exchange,
life and death -
knowing connects
original seeds
the ring released
breathe, breathed
