Out of past lives lava veins rise

Her match wakes music so fast
                I must listen.

At lightspeed the tones sink rapidly
into this land at the end of my mind –
while heartland dances to the tune
I cannot grasp,
 yet moves me to the marrow…

Instruments of life feeding moods
of different days, make them smoke, holy for me to breathe.

Still, I cannot touch those days as they are seamlessly
alien to my life
and yet this web of fear I know, just as the face of relief feels familiar;

I need not scream behind the uncontrollable tears
that river from my eyes,
shadows in the bright sun,
of bodies I can no longer sense.

I circle in
                to the core, vibrating to great earth drums colliding
                               with the tune. There is no pattern to dance to
                                               in the heat of this clash.

Lost, in this here I reach for her hand to steady myself, still breathing the
holy smoke, no longer deafened, my veins filled
with molten lava arising out of the volcanic
instruments, bursting through a membrane into my tears,
creating a new pathway into this life.

I have come home to rest in the quiet moment,
                                left wondering,
wandering
                the cooling
lava field.

With the last curls of smoke, the drums are silent,
the tune dies.

One day I will walk new woods that feed on the lava.