They say you can have a good one
but also say some have a bad one.
A good one is whole, in the center,
balanced like the sandstone head,
to an unbelievable giant.
A good one is balanced like the
black and the white
while it’s splitting it’s time up
between day and the night.
A good one whistles and sings in the canyon
feels the great joy in an empty abandon.
A bad one knows how the world can destroy
can break, steal, or stifle
life’s precious joys.
Chinle, my poor chinle,
caught between the great anger
of not understanding.
Chinle pouring from my fingers in
all of my toils
while others spread their disease
in grand spoils.
She leaves me with every passing day.
So I soak up the sun rays,
in heavy, burning sprays.
Footsteps pittering on dead trunks
as quick as the moth
and bent in regard
You won’t even know where to look.
Where has she gone?
But if you look deep inside,
you’ll find all along
chinle comes from within.
Open yourself and let her breathe
because she needs open love.
Soon enough we’ll see
she can’t be defined, yet she defined all of me.