I’ve heard some say in jest that our ocean floors are less explored than outer space simply because nobody can go down that deep and live to tell about it.
Moments just arrive, or collide, with the last thought, the last action. Bird food/imminent death. Dog barking/missile attack. The expected/the unthinkable.
Flood our parched spirit with life-giving water and tears that soak, crack, sprout, and root old shriveled up seeds of consciousness to once again honor the source of our food