Heart.
Carnation rose –
unfurling being,
rings the bell of images,
beholding memory.

Dewdrops of saffron light
sing in the echo;
the rising source,
pure, subliminal, ever-present.

A wondering wish
of wild revelry.
The reckless dreamer
gazes into the blue beyond.

Rhythm.
Unlike the steadiness of beat.
Rather the varying harmony of waves
washing the shore,
from hushed brushes,
to crashing tides.

Or the sacred proportion within
a fern unfolding,
Spiraling in golden unity –
its green-apple transparency against the rays of sun.

A visual graph marking,
in progression,
the irregular order of the cosmos.

Trust.
A symphony in endless acts.
As long as life.
My work in progress.

Sleeves folding back repeatedly.
Breathing.
Allowing the process to happen.
Acknowledging the other.
Saying yes to being.
Knowing that I am enough.
Smiling when I get off balance.

With each turn, the core
opens, in contrast of light and shadow,
a little more, exposed.