In the still small moment of quiet music,
As the aspens quake out their song in the wind,
The cherry blossom scars are barely recognizable as my heart heals.
Pushed on by a melody barely audible even by my own soul,
I collapse into the arms of this moment allowing ever part of me to resonate with what it means,
As my hands gently reach for what is next without losing what is now.
July 27, 2007