After so many flowers, the hummingbird 
drowns in the whir of its own sweet wings,
a new kind of dreamlessness for the weary.

After so many moonbeams, a moth
entices its painted faces to repose
in the mirror of a wet green fern. 

After so many sleepless tears, you dissolve 
in the dark covenant of silence, awakening 
your heart. This is how November comes

with the beauty of desolation, the whisper 
of an owl through silent mist at 4 a.m.
This is how the white camellia blooms

in stillness, alone, alone.
From midnight until dawn, the Master
is all around us in the form of Silence.

The body sleeps, the mind dreams,
but the heart may listen to what is listening.
A raindrop of death may turn this solitude

 into a miracle of Presence. By the gift
of Aloneness, I am intimate with you,
I immerse in the well of your tears.

I touch every creature through the breath of night.

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