You wander, find, study, consider — and from this engagement, you make little blessings to give away. This is a site for such gifts of word, image, & tune.
Seeds in the Desert
A song: The Edge of Heaven
After long delay, ignorant of what you guarded
when it came volcanic to your mind, there to be
hoarded smoldering until you found a way to tell it,
your secret is out—your joy too tender to entrust
to anyone, your pain too dangerous to reveal
until you do. And there it is, a birth, with blood,
But then the bowl in the heart,
where such things first appear, has something
new to hide, some fingerling creature silver
in the dark, with jagged fins and tender wings
that must be held, locked up, suppressed, fed
crumbs as you fend off the world. Little one,
must you leave me now?
Thus we breathe our holy secrets one by one.