and as I open
I find myself
I admit that I am
Presence
Here
Now
unfolding the Flower of Life
and then I walk
I walk
through gates of reality
seeing
formations that burden our freedom to be
I decorate them
with blossoming, undeniable, delicate beauty
beauty is living truth
and I keep walking
I open more
my blood
it paints
a story in time
of time
beyond time
and I see that she
my flow of life
is everything
I am
the crescent and the full
the wild and the still
the sprouting and the withering
the rock that crumbles into sand
and the rock that remains
and as I bleed - I continue to walk
dressing flowers onto cold, heavy stones
because I am living
and Life is Art
and Art Can Die
but wants to live