Chimes set free the divine distraction of it all.
A unique sense of liberation marries my soul to that which no one can own.
Even if late for the uprising, I am at home.
Traversing each corner,
are dim days.
Dead-ends of provoked, piles of rubbish.
Infused in between,
the possibility of poised promise.
So easy to compass my migration toward flooded tree-lines.
Palpable forests…just for sake.
again and again,
for the beauty my pilgrimage creates.