so

branches spiral shoots
round the core trunk
green brown
amidst blue white sky
we are the saffron dust
inbetween endless dark matter
let me be one of the many tendrils
of hope
green pod bursting to make sacred
its predestined gifts
while leaves sing like bells in the breeze
at the foot of the ancient mountain
i become one
with myself
god

- Bernedette (28 may 2005, Capacitar)