How does it feel when we have thought to appeal
to Spirit for balance on Earth, and healing for Her
creatures when nothing is spoken before it all has
come to pass?

Suddenly, we breathe deeply, smell the cold air
invigorate our nostrils. Wind outside glass doors
is evident. Prayer flags undulate. Dusk begins to
fall. An impossibly blue sky, streaked with lavender,

Transforms into the subtlety of grey. Water gurgling as
the fountain of the tree of life awaits a frog whose song
calls for sunset. Our human hands relax, unleashing gratitude, for making balance and healing alive. Our

Prayers are manifested — nothing left to want. Ease
tumbles in our thighs as evening comes what gives
thanks, not what longing seeks. Prayer flags’ dance

Quiets in our midst. The taste of love in night’s embrace draws near — no asking, yearning where the raven nestles
in prickly twigs. The grey sky falls into indigo and signifies rest. Puma’s paws step silently — dusty land leading west.

Shadows enter a realm that hears no cries for help. A half moon rises with the stars whose power sets apart
death’s rattle from rebirth.