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
singing to you a map-song
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.
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.