Mother

Capturing the descending and holding of the sun, the blue purple hue rests into the eye, with unconditional measure, leaps into the heat, while skin and bones become a vessel for journeys into the night, stretched and pointed into a carved shadow, formless into subtle patterns of presence, it stands distilled as a sweet wind between the grasses, the breath becoming one, one heart, one love, one only. This is the measure. The unquantifiable something that has no name, before it’s coming it already was.