Beautiful JadeFace,

Who are you,

With your cypric-umber undertones?

Is it a mask you wear to cover your identity, 

Or is this statue a caricature of your strange personality?

The sound of your name falls up,

Makes snowflakes alter their hexagonal prisms,

Temporarily bends my heartstrings

To modulate the chorus my love sings to you.

But never mind this homage I speak,

Or these buds of baby pink tulips I bring 

To lay at your comely green stately feet.

You’re much too busy with bigger things, I see,

So I will turn and worship the sun,

Raise my holy hands to the cottonwood tree

That grows by the humble gray-water ditch,

That answers me by shivering its leaves in photosynthetic bliss.

I now blow a kiss to all the things that don’t exist,

And then to the few that do.

I blow a kiss to you, JadeFace,

And say a fond adieu to you,

In search of the next great artifact,

That proves to me that I’m not that, either.

But each and every time I return.

I regress to the place in my own mind,

Where the sun shone on me once,

And spoke my name,

Where the wind sang and my brain entrained ,

And I wonder why I ever bother to be sidetracked from

This incredible peaceful trance

Where love beats out in binaural trance tones

Directly deeeeeeply assuring me,

Straightaway to my heart and soul.

-jenn