Open Flight
Stars have hollowed out
our longing, backlit flimsy
clothes we wear to cover
up our fear. When we cannot
recognize the resting place
of essence–dwelling everywhere
yet nowhere we can name,
we carry small conceits
in separate pockets made
of stardust, cloud the sky
with dust devils winged
by pointless conversation,
seek comfort in our dream
world, let vastness pass us by.
Opening the heart of eternal love
reveals what mind only guesses.