Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Thistle wishes
blow the wheel
around,
on random,
pregnant,
underground.
Uprooted at birth,
spit from stem
we earn,
a few
short breaths,
before we return.
Back to wordless
infinity,
we
the reincarnate,
souls
of trees.

Cool, Hes....

and a mind-snap of a sort, here, when I try to fathom a wordless consciousness of any sort....

btw.... I like your Rumi quote.... very telling (about the character of a man who did extensive business with Saddam not so long ago, when it was deemed expedient)..... reminds me of another quote of his.... something to the effect that war is "untidy", (and essentially that's just too bad.... for them, of course)....