It is quiet now, a womb of new, washing
away all that came before. The trail,
is empty, blank slate to pen.
No footsteps, only water against sand.
Flow in the way you are meant to be.
Show me the invisible path,
or let me be.
Empty as it was before,
A desert flower in forever darkness,
blooms while quietly painting
the vibrant oneness.
Together grains of sand persist, each drop
etching away the old, gently soaking
into the depth of new.
Deeper runs this vein of new, crushing
the oldest pictures of,
an ancient sea- browns, reds and blue,
hovering above, awaiting the forever sky.
Liquid labors, birthing the next
breath of quiet reveals a pathless view.
-Lavinia Busch, 2018