The Truth That Simply Is

the hum of cicadas a drone that dissolves into something larger the mango tree outside not just bark and leaf but a vessel brimming with the sun's gold a silent testament my own skin, porous aware of the breeze carrying whispers from unseen petals no need for the steeple or the chanted word the sacred breathes in the pause between thoughts in the shared glance with a passing stranger this feeling unburdened by name a current beneath the surface pulling me gently towards a knowing older than language a truth that simply is in the rustle of bamboo in the quiet beating of my own heart a boundless connection unfurling. ©bfa042125