When she is drought,
be rain, and when
she is rain, be cup.
When she is lost,
let her be her own map,
and when she is wind
be wind. There are trees
in her, no, whole orchards.
Be soil and sunshine and bee.
When she is seed,
be time. When she
is moon, be sea.
[…] A Hundred Falling Veils […]
This is beautiful