when ‘ner he come
for prayer untold
to hear the moon
forsake the sea,
and blind the fire
to need of when;
breath deep, my son
and you will sense the ‘cuin.
the hourglass breaks
and endless sand
sifts hopeless bound
through clutched despair
to gather up
felled jeweled tears;
dance quick, my son
and you will know the ‘cuin.
shadows betray
this Moonless night
to distort anew
chanting heartsteps
leading upward
in silent clamor;
spin about, my son
and you will see the ‘cuin.
when roaring din
of lost starfall
detracts from dreams
in patchwork hues
of spirits claim
on proud soul’s view;
then call out, my lad
and you will touch the ‘cuin.
Parallel tracks
of circle time
balance within
the measured tread
when chaos seeks
echoing silence;
wish profound, little man
and you will claim the ‘cuin.
