What if each soul, in passing, casts a seed upon the earth – and with each Spring, the seeds burst with beauty, as a reminder
Fertile is love – an ancient fruit tree soft and up-giving were life root almost too wet – moony world Secret: I wither, am stone
Imperceptibly they disappear no ghostly trace I am a doorway – open, transparent, absorbing teleporting extinguishing souls, spirited away Eden-bound no return.
What corridor is this? What beckoning – wordless sublime… is this awakening or does death posture in shadows… my heart yearns mourns … to be