steam drift, stir
the surface of warmth
in a cup you hold;

fog follow the morning
river as it bends
before you;

cloud cling to the
summit of some mountain
you view from afar;

merely an observer,
you think as you lift
the cup in your hands
to drink

Rembrandt’s tulip, floral goddess,
is broken. Some virus
in the bulb. Yet Love,
look, streaks of red
on white like flames.
Imagine whole fields,
seas of overwhelming temporary
brightness that blinds
then sharpens.
This breaking is beauty—
some chord struck far deeper
in the fibers of life—
love drawn and redrawn
transcendent like self-portraits,
the Master across ages sincere.
Can you view yourself this way?

Immersed in light beyond time,
variegated impression of the Divine
calling out to the Divine.

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Partial inspiration: Flora

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The tree dances without moving;
branches elegant, arched, beautiful.

Imagine the time-lapse:
see it shaped.
Moving as the light moves,
reaching out to the beloved giver
of that which you cannot quite see.
Taking into itself,
knowing the light.
Becoming.

the road has risen to meet you,
the wind at times blown you back.
the sun's warmth has been blinding,
the rain's fall flooded your tract.

this path's steps are not even,
the weather not promised to hold.
for this is the way of the pilgrim,
and the progress is made in your soul.

so no matter the incline
or strength of the gale,
no matter the size of the rain,
may you find good ale,
warm bread, and companions
until we meet again.

This was written as a remix of the traditional Irish Blessing:
May the road rise to meet you
May the wind always be at your back
May the sun shine warm upon your face
The rains fall soft upon your fields
and until we meet again
May God hold you in the palm of his hand