The silent standing nation

is ablaze with prayer.

. . . 

The captured

enraptured sunlight

bursts forth fiercefully

from their tremendous trunks.

 

Released from these wooden troves

are

the outbreaths

the word, wisdom, song 

of our ancestors...

our earthling ancestors.


Do they plead

for our attention & care?

Do they serenade us

in times of peril?

Are they scorning our neglect?

 

We may hear the crackle

the pops

the hissing

the whispers —

but are we listening?

Are we really paying attention?

We may watch the flames dance

colorfully costumed

w/

reds and blues

yellows and oranges

but are we really seeing?

Are we just entranced by the show?


These incantations released

for us

to us

with us

are ours

to do with what we which —

will we heed?

 

Hearing the past

~

ignites

our ancient

ancestral, familial, cultural

chords & connections

~

engulfs 

our present

~

consumes & smolders

 into our future

~

extinguishes 

all 

to dust.

 

The whispering wind

playful, gusty and mischievous

caresses and stimulates

the flames

in 

their dancing ritual.

It is a breezy, seductive temptress

bewitching and enchanting

the blaze

~ of our dated destiny ~

to engross & devour

to radiate & illuminate

to scorch

!

more and more

until 

there is no more.

 

Our foremothers & forefathers

intentful echoes

are loudly alive

w/

luminous flickering.

They are a playfully enspirited

naturally violent

organically bold

display

of

primordially beautiful

chaos.

May we join the chorus

to participate

in the celebration ~ in the commiseration

of this exotic exchange

of

natural & etheric ~ ordinary & transcendent

Spirit

ablaze with re-membrance and foretelling.

Into their greatness

With their brilliance

Because of their luminosity

We have light to see

to blind.