©1999 by Sherri Kohler

Inside this strange season I am suspended between realization and expectation
I am a conscious constellation with my thoughts in formation
Patiently signaling her invasion
I am the ring of bones beneath the tree
I am the hunter of the healing wind who would balance my song against her sanity
Cleased and ripe for vision,like the tide I rise
Discerned truths disintergrate my disguise
Nowhere to hide from her intuitive eyes
The mirage of our beings disengage
While innumerable myriads of form rearrange
Until we are a final emanation of a ray of creation

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