This world has been
destroyed many times.
And yet, I rebuild my monasteries,
growing my trees unfailingly
in the breath between words,
the long sighs.
A lighthouse in the distance
reflects a glorious rebirth.

I wander aimlessly
through a listless limelight—
struck by the
meandering absurdities
that welcome us all home.

Each fresh pair of eyes
offers a habitat for dreamers-
the antithesis of the pragmatic day.
Each new set of ears
brings bard and a minstrel.
Each face encouraging the
bright mosaic façade to continue
layering stone after stone-

my monasteries were built with
hope and crumble with vulnerability.