(seen from The Lingering Lemon of Death)

cold stone seeps as i sit, chilling
morning sun embraces as i sit, warming
i inhale the incense of nothing, clear pure nothing
and the trees stand like columns

troy is singing
singing about the day that the sun didn't come on amelia island
i take a dead leaf in my hand and slowly reduce it to bits
random bits of yellow confetti at my feet

then, like a man who has been squatting, god shifts his weight slightly,
and the trees praise his movement with an offering
and we are undersea, in a golden ocean
as the leaves fall.

i'm bored, so i pick up a leaf again,
this one is yellow golden whatever, just like the last one,
but unlike, as i hold it, not brittle, smooth.
the stem offends me, i move to break it.

the squatting man leans over to whisper
"this is my body, broken for you"
and i hold in my hand the most beautiful leaf i have ever seen
i caress it, i give it all my love.

i want to hold the leaf forever,
but shelly thanks the squatting man for the leaves,
for the mana,
and i know this leaf is dying.

i stand up and drop the leaf,
inhale the incense of nothing, clear and pure,
and thank the squatting man,
for this moment, and for the next one.