The pampas grass sways in the soft rain.
Lanterns hover above water.
Amid the reflections, the joviality of night-smiles fade from memory to silence.
I feel spinning cells within me shift like a tide.
I once focused on how to bring things together.
Now I meditate on withdrawal into the forest's cycle of light, shade, and sound.
(c) 2018 / Pure Land Poetry / Frank LaRue Owen / purelandpoetry.com
sound: Steve Roach, Early Man