more i don't know, because my branches / rest in deep silence, stirred only by wind.

so i am sometimes like a tree / rustling over a gravesite / and making real the dream of one its living roots / embrace: / a dream once lost / among sorrows and songs.

you said live out loud, and die you said lightly, / and over and over again you said be.

you are not dead yet, it's not too late / to open your depths by plunging into them / and drink in the life that reveals itself quietly there.

you run like a herd of luminous deer / and i am dark, i am forest.

and you inherit the green / of vanished gardens / and the motionless blue of fallen skies, / dew of a thousand dawns, countless summers / the suns sang, and springtime to break your heart / like a young woman's letters.