A Bell Rings
The ring of a bell,
The sudden smell of honeysuckle,
The moments that carry you,
The need to hug tired strangers,
Drifting dirt-covered angels,
In the summertime.
With July brings perfect doubt.
As I float in chartless territory,
The only thing I ever wanted to be
So far away, and so present and alive,
But in colors and faces I cannot recognize,
A rippling mystery on the top of my tongue.
The slide past the heart.
The ancient, tonal ore of the spirit
Here in the red dirt of Mililani
Where I am torn, limb from brain, mind from matter
Dreams from mud, ghost from flesh.
In each instant is the lesson told and told again:
That love is always new.
A drop of rain, calls,
From the hills.
A bell, rings.
And love cares not.
Love loves, indifferently.
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