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Description
A tumbleweed arose from the east one morn’
to reveal the journey of a skeleton reborn.
Woven with threads of moonlight and those of day -
a perfect mirror of the life we portray.

As it descended, I wondered of its evolution.
Had it starved in the golden tundras of illusion?
Tumbled the path of least resistance?
Or perhaps rested in the coves of non-existence?

Once I invited in all the brightness of the sun
unintentionally leaving the silver threads undone.
Now I see exactly where my shadows cast -
a point where duality reflects a tumbleweed’s past.

Luminous beauty, I plead you come rest your head.
Your feet need let up and your belly needs bread.
We shared a laugh and sang with sweet cherry wine.
I made a bed, but it refused to build roots in a confine.

I implored it in the doorway for one more drink.
I’ll hold no significance without my missing link.
Please surrender to me this wrinkle in our crossroads.
Grant me a moment to weave your shape into my eternal abode.

From within my grasp, it burst into the ashes I’ll soon return.
A ghost of the sublime skeleton I once yearned.
Now assembling the dust that lay upon my chestnut drawers
to birth a modern frame from the wild earth’s decor.

This spirit reborn still bears the fruit of its ancestors,
as current species reflect the habits of their predecessors.
They arrange the seeds of a new world’s transcendence
and engrave their potential on every particle in attendance.

In a stupor, I watched the tumbleweed depart my cottage
and demanded a resolution for its true nature still escaped my knowledge.
The great enigma turned and drew up its one golden eye.
"Budding lotus, I am the secret to death that cannot die."