Around me,
a tangle of fear thinking
and night blind-stars.
Yet, the door is so wide open,
your voice calling
my notice to its song.
Like a guide from another place,
without condition or agenda.
I rest in the grace of our world,
we are free.
Dust of hope
Around me,
a tangle of fear thinking
and night blind-stars.
Yet, the door is so wide open,
your voice calling
my notice to its song.
Like a guide from another place,
without condition or agenda.
I rest in the grace of our world,
we are free.
A Wandering Poet 