No Chimes, No Crickets, No Traffic

Just the moon and some clouds playing
Shadow puppets on the sandstone

Face of the cliffs through the small hours,
A faint thrum rising from the Earth.

If it could always be like this,
Who wouldn’t want to always stay?

You are aware of Earth’s conflicts
And your responsibilities,

Your mortal culpabilities,
Your rooting interests. But this. This.

You choose, for now, to stay for this,
Aware of this, because you know

The greatest gift of awareness
Is that awareness gets to go.