Drops of Color/ Eden

Drops Color
Eden

A field 
laid open.
Every direction
unmarked for miles.

A wisp of wind
strummed its way
through the tree
holding a center
like a point of nothingness.

Chimes rang
like a bell-tower
—a rope pulled an invisible
thread by an unnamed ‘Who.’

Each ‘gong’ set off
pairs of hidden wings
draped between the
slender stalks of lush
undisturbed grasses.

The soft scent of earth,
like incense rising,
filled one’s nostrils
—breathing in the landscape
—breathing out the gentle
vapors of a ‘self’
pooling in
the Divine culmination
of the Universe entwined
in a rapturous
service
never ceasing.

The tree lifted its limbs,
its roots holding
steadfast.

The homily sung
through draping leaves
welcoming the sun
and whispering
‘good night’ to the
slivered moon
slanting into the purple
western sky.

Here in this field,
Eden at play.

The tree stands…

We have never really
left~