You live in the silent heart of the earth.
There are few words where you are,
and few you evoke in me.
You are the quiet steady flame,
burning, in the still deep cave of the keeper of memories.
You are the fluorescence in innocence,
the majesty of humility,
the ingenuity in simplicity, the steadiness in silence.
You are the great forgotten river, flowing underground.
You are just as the wind, as it blows across the acres of
your belonging place.
You are just as the wind when it reaches right in
to the capillaries of my essence.
Every word spoken in search of you is one too many.
You are the ‘is’ of this existence.
You are the opposite of expression.
You are the home of any silence left inside me.
You are the confluence I become when our two
great rivers become one.
I want to become dust in your dirt,
I want to be the seed that fell and grew again
into the tree of life,
I want to be the fruit, pure enough to sustain you,
I want to be the essence of what you believe in:
you are that essence in me.
Below the ripples on the surface of the sea,
inside the eye of a great storm,
in the heart of a seed,
a golden egg,
I wait to be discovered
as the essence of you.