every land is empty
i wander here and there
remembering the other times
i travelled here alone
~ without you there’s no home
time is passing slowly
the fires are turned to ash
i seek new wood to burn for you
a flame to light the way
but you can’t see the beacons
you’re too far away
the birds still sing
the river flows
i know these trodden ways
~ wherever i may roam
without you there’s no home
like lace these fragile flapping wings,
new born from the chrysalis, pale butterfly
drying under a yellow sun, bright burning
full of life, vibrant, short lived, time burning
stretching out its virgin wings
clinging to a tender stem, this butterfly
climbing upward to your journey, butterfly
prepare to fly away, as I, burning
with desire to touch, with care, your wings
an awful thought, lost dust, wings burning, butterfly
The Dreaming Path 