Just Flowing

Star falling
into the dark edge
of the mountain,
so beautiful we
wonder if your
fountain of light
was real
or only imagined.

All moments
of beauty streak
between seeing
and remembering, and
never happen at all
unless we are
not the same, once
we also fall, once we
follow the light
beyond its rim of darkness.

And why should we not
emulate the star's
example, plunging into
the purple, inky deep
of not knowing,
of forgetting to keep
our memories,
instead just flowing?



Happy Thanksgiving!