where dark loam feeds and liquid air drips
and giants kiss eternity -
this place stops time.
Inside this world of earth-born movement
even the air gestates.
Life exhales and slakes,
creeps and burrows,
leaps and scurries,
climbs and flutters,
nourishes, suckles,
spinning a spiraling web
of reincarnation and revelation.
As I breathe these whispers, wise and evergreen,
I come to believe heaven is covered in moss.
No comments:
Post a Comment