Stop spinning on your busy wheel of pain long enough to hear this:

You are not outside the fold of your original preciousness.


Even the dawn-bird

is heralding this truth

each morning


singing to you a map-song

with coordinates

leading to your renewal.


Even when it seems

you have gone over the edge, falling,

you are woven in.


When family, friends, or lovers

are separated by a great distance


the Old Way tells us

to converse through the moon.


Sliding a key

into the lock of memory

you can see

you are never not

on the path.


Open heart

open door

wide-open expanse.


With such openness

even long-ago ancestors

can send messages through time

and grandmotherly kisses can arrive

through the moon in your teardrop.

(c) 2017 / Pure Land Poetry / Frank LaRue Owen (Wandering Stone Lantern) /

This poem will appear in the forthcoming September 2018 release of The School of Soft-Attention, now available for pre-order from Homebound Publications or

To learn more about the soundscapes of Maneki Neko, visit his Bandcamp page.