Silent as a shadow

Creeping through a meadow

Vivid pinks

Lush greens.

Scattering seeds into the sky

Throwing way up high,

Sowing among the heavens

That fertile garden soil.

Things planted here

Don’t ever climb near

If I plant some hope

High up above

Will it dangle down?

A rescue line tossed by wind

Hanging at the end of everything.

– Vagabond Prophet