Night Sky. No different than open eyes. Bird Song. Coming from the same place, within.
Endless. Formless. Grace.
Lighting bug winks at the moon, cars rush by, light streams from a lamp, a window, a star.
There is nothing that is not born from the place of unknowing.
Heart's beginning, heart's end.
A tombstone marks a memory not held by anyone living.
Nature washes the forms away,
and yet the light shines on in sweet perfection.
