Lullabies

As I walk down this dark

and lonely road, I am

engrossed in thoughts:

of lotuses in mud,

of the impermanence of clouds,

and of how calming is the cacophony of night.

And I realize, it's time — so,

I stop and watch the moonset,

as it smiles serene encouragement,

then bravely and gently, pry open

my already-cracked ribs.

The pain is excruciating, yet,

with tenderness and care,

I pull out the heart of my suffering —

hold it softly in my palm,

and cradle it with love.

I begin to examine it with eyes of

curiousity and wonder — oh so

delicately dissecting each vein

of pain, each aorta

of loss, each electric pulse

of frustration and fear.

And as I slowly begin to fully

and completely sense the origins

of its inner

workings, of its

cosmic energies —

I yearn to care for this broken thing.

So, I etch indelibly my caress

onto its soft pink flesh,

as it beats mournful in my embrace

and I sing sweet lullabies — the ones

I know it longs to hear — that whisper words

of love, understanding, and safety.

And of no more goodbyes.