out in the distant dead light,
We wash ourselves in the song of curiosity
and ask "Mother, where are my brothers and sisters?"
Why do I paint these things? Why do I dream of three eyes
and a handful of soil? Why do I hear the prayer that hums?
If this planet spins through the sky outside the sky,
then I'm a traveller sitting still.
And I lament my stillness until now, when a voice
told me that I've been hurtling through the sky outside the sky,
that I've been spinning with God Mother, moving and never moving.
I'm tired and sometimes sick but the gravity of this cosmic love is always.
I wanted to be always, until now.
When I realized that I was,
that I am.
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