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?