In these teeming billions
I’m just another tear drop
flowing down the cheek of mortality.

—–

Inside you
the dust has spread
like a common rumor.

—–

In these woods,
between birds and butterflies,
between music and motion.

—–

Away from the frigid wastes.
Away from the loudness of longing.
The slow turning of time.
The warmth of familiar water.

Peace at last.