of wisdom
I’m unworthy –
 were purpose writ for me
to walk these planks
so warm
beneath my toes
 as winds to whisper softly
a curse of crooked boards
– to worlds
beyond my seeking
 now I go

as breath
to almost always –
fingers worked around
 – foundation to the temple
of my hands
stars are cast into the morn
where once forever stood –
light is come
my ways
to understand

forgotten to the map
begun –
one Sunday in the rain
swept her muddy secrets
from my soul
watched a blue horizon
melt into the deep
– I listened
as the tides
of heaven told

. . .