ho makes Divinity
me or you?
What answer
such mystery?
What folly!
no clue
can trace back
before
or follow
to END --
can know such Beginnings
or see past this bend
in a road that leads
nowhere
to ever be found
past the tree in the forest
that falls
without sound.

W

ho calls us
to question
the false from the true?
What answer the haunt
of the owl's ceaseless
whoooo?
Does deciding
reality's rightful due
tell us
who
names the Truth --
Is it me
or you?

W

ho grants us the goodness
of healing, whole
the past
through the present
of future we sow
while the seeds of the seasons
of self-scattered hopes
imagined
emerge, like a song
from a note

L

ike our life
from its days,
peace from pain,
a rose from a memory
risen again
in a cycle of mysteries --
a circle of Grace,
We are granted this tenure
of name and face.

W

e are gifted its measure
and willed its breadth,
blessed with its sovereignty
birth to death;
Linked by legacy
lost
then found
as we travel
our destiny's truth
unbound
from the censure
of hearts
to broken to heal
that calls through our blood
to break
time's seal

S

o we follow our fate
while ignoring its cues --
we invent our reasons
to win --- or lose,
we decide for ourselves
(the me's and you's)
by shaping our power
to what we choose

W

hat answer the owl's
deep questioning
whooooo
can grant us the wisdom
of me --- and of you
to divine a forgiveness
of here-and-now
to heal our hearts whole
when we don't know how?