I gazed into flames from the wood of a tree,
a tree from the graveyard not too far from me.
Licking the air and the wood and the smoke,
as if glad to be free and alive and it spoke.
The language of movement and forms it had been,
energy dancing a red flowing stream.
Sap rising through roots, branches and bark,
changing form and intention, spirits making their mark.
On life and the living ever changing in form,
new facets and values akasha reborn.
paul ’14