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