The Love exists not only in the vacuum of good fortune,
built on the fragile twigs of circumstance.
Breath in, then hold on.
It is eternally giving,
even in the valleys of the dark.
And as it goes, always,
the unfolding is a graceful logic, as being becomes.
The water’s flow held right inside the fires of destruction.
So birth, birth, and birth again,
from the terrors in my soul:
sweet melodic tones.
Their overflow poured out in a sweet sigh of joy.
Heart gently blazing, now the rhythmic fuel to my air.
Eternal breath on waves,
in all seasons of circumstance.
Sweet surrender to Life.
The Depths of Light 