The wind without tongue whispers to the heart
through the swaying boughs and dancing leaves.
Her words, many-faced,
pierce spur-wise the wheel of the sun
rolling over moss-kissed lips.
There are penetrating
alphabet truths
in every direction.
Would you listen?
Not just listen, but deeply!
She brings rain and shine
to your twiching little ear
as your wiskers wet with strawberry seeds.
The true hearing empties the mind.
The skull, a cavern running strange water
through cracks,
deposits minerals that grow
clear,
bright,
and fractured.
The air is still,
and nothing has ever been said.
Last updated on 10-Oct-2026.