I don't quite know the full science of it yet.
Perhaps you've already been tracking it.
Consider sharing your thorough notes with all of us later.
For now, I bend low under the canopy
surrendering myself to the science of renewal
found in the old tree-sitting religion.
The science, of course, always begins with an inquiry;
a problem, a hypothesis, a quest, a deep need to make sense
how paths crumble, how towers topple, how things go sideways.
For me, it started with a season of daggers flying through my aura.
What ol' Chaucer says in the old Merchant's Tale is true: "For love is blind."
Here's to the return of Clear-Sight.
I've been leaking spirit-energy in my wake for weeks.
I get images of an old life as a samurai, knocked from my horse,
bleeding from armor that looked like a riddled door or a seeping sieve.
In the here and now, however,
a holy centering place
high above the city
plugged and smoothed my wounds.
Kannon's grace flows through birdsong and leaf-bloom.
People these days are going on and on
about "forest bathing" as if it's something new.
I love that, but sometimes it's beyond a pleasant stroll;
sometimes an actual triage of deep forest healing is required.
In the end, every bit of it
is just what The Great Physician ordered;
the steady, quiet-piercing,
There's no doubting when you're finally on new ground.
A buoyancy returns.
A gleam in the eyes that had started to fade.
A return of dedication to vows you had made.
And so, may everyone who may be needing to
release, release, and release some more
until the flow of your indigo tears run dry in the river
that is the past you needed to remember but will not revisit.
(c) 2018 / Frank LaRue Owen (Wandering Stone Lantern) purelandpoetry.com