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 / Saizan Owen / Pure Land Poetry

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

Comment