Poetry and pictures, infused with the beautiful chaos of No Point…

Eyes shut.
We navigate by listening.
We hear each other, the songs, they come slowly.
We follow the melody.
We cannot go back.
We have reached the point of No returning, and now We can only make our way, listening.
We sing.

Every time, a little deeper, into what it means to share, and be alive.
We make No judgements. Everyone is equal.

The song takes us far away, we dance, shaking off our shackles to the beat of ocean to the shore, and for a moment we are free…

It takes time, like the blossom, to bud and ripen, it is effortless, like clouds forming.
Like a wren builds their nest.

We are the children of these summer blessings, gifts given freely into seed scattered by the wind, willow herb and thistle, soft wishes for the autumn sky.
We have not forgotten.

We are coming home, to bed, to warmth as the cold sets in, to snuggle and breathe in the scent and heat of our lover. In the morning we will be up again, too early, we will sit by our window, blow steam from our tea. We will watch the rain outside and be glad for those kisses.
They keep us warm within.

There are 8 bowls to clean, but the family has eaten. We carry it, like The Mother.

Inside the temple, a fire burns.

_{Photos by Sage Dean}