I wake to a stream of light through the window. A curved bowl hangs, shining, holding golden liquid that streams down in a beam onto my floor. The moon wanes and rests mid-sky.
I force myself to wake – it must be time to write – then realize it’s only 3:19am. I can’t go back to sleep. In the dark of my room, I watch a video of Chinese doctors chanting over a woman with cancer. They show the tumor on an ultrasound screen dissolving in less than three minutes. They say it’s not a miracle but a tool. This power of intent. This feeling in the heart. To feel that she is well has made it so.
By 4:30am I’m back to sleep and dreaming of poetry.
At 7am I wake to dusky purple light. It’s been a long time since I’ve slept till sunrise. I hear the bullfrog at the stream. He seems to have one simple drone, free of having to decide how to express.
What if there were just one tone that I was given? I could stick with that, let go of mind, and just move my song to calm and trance. No doubt and never wonder.
But I’m human, and I wonder
Would I really like a single key?