Ground swallow me whole. Become my comfort.
Spirals form and twist me inside out. The wind comes and gently touches my form.
Ice falls and inside the moon.
My eye opens and three gardens of life form.
Clouds of stars above, striking the sky above as a blessed drum.
Punctured beats singing abound my head and captured for a moment by my senses.
In the morning my three gardens full with joy, open and sleep again each evening.
Breath takes my flesh like fire as a new garden forms. Again and again. Bare the old dead garden falls. It has had a good place on my form, I will grow others.
Drink the cold rain.
Endure the freezing ice.
Celebrate the new spring as I seek a new way. Send a message.
Send a new path.
The flowers grow, like my gardens but less whole, less lived. They last but a few settings of the life giving light.
But they are replaced by this feeling.
A new path is forming.
Not just one.
It blossoms. It rages. It aches me to our all the spring and some summer into these… Things. My body compels.
They are gone. One sunrise. I again store all the gardens joy inside. Wait for the cold.
Year and year.
Day and day.
Until I feel a prickle. A itch.
Then I am on the ground. It swallows me whole. And the former self reborn, I find myself starting back.