The
most important
question we must ask ourselves
is, “Are we being good
ancestors?”
Clouds
grow heavy; thunder goes.
Rain drives in from the east, its patter
falls on the sides of the houses. Rain can be destructive,
wiping out boundary marks. But the soil needs care — ecstatic love
has sprouts now, and renunciation. Let the rain feed both.
Only the farmer with intelligence actually brings
his harvest back to his farmyard. He will fill
the granary bins, and feed both the
wise men and the
saints.
lightning
strikes up out of the earth
stunning the air with sound the sun falls
flaming into the sea bright cracks
open in the burning clouds the sky is broken
this is the season of separation crossed
and crossing paths
hevrin khalaf, blessings on her peaceful soul
One torch
can dissipate the
accumulated darkness
of a thousand
aeons.