For my soul

To say I miss you 

would be meaningless - 

How can one miss that which is inseparable from oneself  

at the root 

Without you,

I am like a candle without a flame 

A river with no banks 

You are not the reason for my poetry 

You are the poetry 

             Which comes forth when I seek you. 

         

words: Nisha
photo: Wayne

Last night

        Before I fell asleep
I walked through the chest of an eagle
    and I was then a serene mountain off in the distance
I was the trees, long and short, old and new
                         aware of the mountain
Last night also
            I was the gentle stream
       I was a pond
and I was also the swan in the pond. 

I was the wind moving through space.

           As if
                    I was not in my bed at all.

That was last night.
Now that I am awake and senses fail me,

deep inside
               remains still-
these feelings of all that
I Am.

Field Rotation-Regenzeit II

Could it be

That all we are

and all we will ever be

is a feeling

of all that is, was and will ever be

                  suspended in time

words by: Nisha
photo  by: Wayne