Plugging in to the winter trees.
In to the black sky.
The soft padding footsteps of the dog, the fox, the deer.
Trust your own awakening.
There is nothing, except a wish - pure, ever fresh born.
There is nothing, except a call - through the noise, through the arc of the rainbow.
Upwelling. Felt in simplicity.
Like thirst. Like flight. Beyond doubt.
A wish to let what wants to flow, flow.
A wish to welcome you, you who want to live.

- Kate Genevieve