Tonight use the darkness
to clean the light from your wings.
There is sadness in joy,
a mirror to the way the heart
surrenders to grief and finds freedom.

Have you seen your fingertips lately?
They carry the rings of sand dunes,
marking the years like trees,
flaking off like granite from the peak.
Eventually we all become the wind.

Have you seen the lake, the window
to the same earth that will turn you
back into the same cradling grass one
day? Did you know your ribs are the
dawn calling you to grace?

The birds fly high and turn white,
the plane takes off and tears fall,
we lived a thousand marriages
our heads, a million possibilities,
snowflakes to the same snow.

As you brush against branches and
touch the essence of dirt, see the bud’s
possibility and the fallen tree’s fate,
find the center that is everywhere you go.
Thoughts are just drops of rain

playing in the sunlight. May these
words be a teabag in the ocean of
your mind, let them steep. Awakening
occurs in every direction, like the moon
becoming pregnant with light.

Photo by Marc-Olivier Jodoin
Read this poem on Apple News.