Photo / Trung Pham Quoc
Silver mist blooms behind a flower-wind.
Dark trees whistle green.
Ready rain taps within the hidden drum of sky.
Shimmer-clouds roam nomadic, like lassos catching light,
until the starry-hinges creak on cobalt doors of darkness.
The earth teaches an infinite language of kindness;
to speak it freely is to worship oneness.
Gather every syllable of your supple conviction.
Do not spare anyone your heart-bound, truth soliloquy.
The chiming of reunion is ringing through the veil.