Pregnant with your light, I hold the pen with my fingers. The old mind attempts to give birth, but silence wins this battle.
And just like that, without reason or purpose the pen touches the empty paper, and together give sense and direction to the whirlwind of silence that your breath impregnated in my being.
It started precisely like this, as the small particle of ink that doesn’t amount even to a drop, that has no sense or reason but that without possible barrier initiates by subtle and delicate movement of wrist and fingers the letters and words of torrential light that give expression to that which inundates me in plenitude.
Like this, at last, comes a clamor for you. Like this materializes in the expressionless void a river of ink and word that perhaps one day might reach the vast sea. Or perhaps it will never reach, and will simply evaporate drop by drop, becoming imperceptible vapor, one with the sky, without direction or ambition until some day comes to be storm, dew, or rainbow in the sky blue.
–Koyote (translated from Spanish) 06-13-2015