the gaping wound opened again and the cool rush of infinite space and meaninglessness rushed through me like a wind or a ghost train.
and i think, oh god, am i here again?
... is anything for certain in this world as the floor keeps dropping out beneath me to expose the fine network of stars and far off galaxies and groundlessness beneath my feet?

the clouds are letting go of the rain...

it is time for letting go

winter

pruning back to the bones

what is essential?

--edited from the barefoot yogi