We are lonely at times. In streaks of color and fading fabric we devote our selves to stillness. We run our innermost along the smooth spine of ribbons, hanging over doorways. They beckon us to enter. In slip our souls, deep into forgotten passages like roots dwelling in dark spaces, where we commemorate our ancestors, and where only the heart affords light.

I fall off a leaf.

On and on – rowan and walnut – I lift the heavy blanket from my shoulders and lay it across the table – cherry. There loneliness meets light, finds rest, finds recognition, stumbles towards a young child’s pointed finger; „look“. Then, evaporates: all seen is freed. Unmasked and spilled into the embracing forest. Of seed rises tree, and branch, and leaf…mother, father, brother, sister. Their roots run in my veins. What love, what source of life entwined inside of me. I am at peace.