The Wind

We're speaking into the wind.

Speaking in between the shaking sticks and leaves, through the trees, straight into this ceaseless breeze which carries away the words, carelessly.

We are translucent to the wind, hollow to the wind. And as it blows through me to you, the wind passes through you, too, tracelessly.

In this Wilderness, we speak into our placeless altar: "everything I do, I offer to you".

And the wind's whispers dance in and through our hollow.

Our words are the wind's.