Okay.Serendipity on repeat. The dragonfly I never mentioned. Coffee in front of the empty cafe chair. Bees and chickadees. And so much blue.
I look at leaf litter piling on the porch and I see dead bodies. The fall out. Yet also, fertilizer. Only the mind is at odds with this path. Is and is not; can and can not. The way around the paradox is to crave the dagger. That is, straight through.
Because as it turns out, existence is inclusive.
Sharing the way, we become the oral tradition that lives on in a song, unrestricted by text or meaning or interpretation. The humming chant settles the ripples that our letters have sent ahead, and we remember everything the trees and the hawks and the moon had to say. We are not a part or apart. We are. Just here. Okay?