Not knowing why or how, I’ve found
the Pathless Path, happy to traverse

The Mother of the Heart, my home
knowing no nation, no beginning

No boundary, no end. Moving
where my heart leads, none

Too fast. Beauty is the one thing
stopping me to be held in rapture.

Sometimes, I sense the presence
of another form — bird song, river

Roar, sunlight shaft stretched out
through majestic pine. It is time

To listen, perhaps to speak, then
hold council, spiral space drawn

In dizzying rapture by dragonflies.
All my relations circle round to tell

My story with its cycle — life, death,
rebirth —  and its random offerings — 

Solace, comfort, danger, strange 
music filled with shadows in light.

No instructions here, but an embrace — 
A shining web of silken strands spun

Again and again, forward, backward, 
upside down in pleasure and pain.

In no order other than my heart’s
beating inside  — Oh cadence of

pathlessness, warm, rich, endless —
held by the breath of the wind.