I have see that gardened minds grow weary,
sustained in doubt and fragility.

In the moment, there is only courage questioning grace,
and grace encouraging us to sour and chant our dreams.

You can recover the unlived choices meditating in the mists;
you can surrender to the vast moonless sky.

Yearning like a forgotten goddess' aching heart.
Her secret voice tears the sea,
and stirs up storms of fury.

Yet she still nourishes life with rain-cycle wisdom,
blessing all the playful paths you might take...

If only you could accept joy and the full weight of a creative soul.

Then the muses would sing and sprout life
in the lush riverbeds of your imagination.

They would inspire you to run and flow, to dance and know,
the journey to trust in skin, and the marvelous
medicine of even one compassionate friend!