hinarising

Pull Over,

And walk twenty yards

From the highway.

Myth is alive,

Movement rustling in darkness,

Light seeping from clouds,

A slight breeze,

A dancing Lehua blossom

Swaying unseen,

An unbeaten path,

A stone throw

from the known.

We are divorced from what’s real,

Believing in our own superiority,

And have we forgotten our relations?

The stone, the moss, the mist, the mountain,

All waiting for us to return home.