So if I am at one with nature, there is no thought beyond
the now.  These words, one by letter by
one by letter by word by sentence, are just in the now.  I need not worry or even consider if they
root in you, whoever you are, out there in the then of the future. 

Like the birds, I eat what I find on the ground, food at the
grocery–organic or not, sleep in a cozy bed, shoes at the second-hand store,
and inspiration in the air, the people, the day, the chant, the sky.  After I take all this in, digested or not, it
is then released.  Perhaps as I fly
through the day a word drops into your fertile ear of a soul.  Maybe when I’m sitting chatting in the bushes
of a coffee shop, listening to the addict in you or me, I drop a word seed on
the table that you pick up and scribble in your notebook.  Perhaps it will take root.  Perhaps it will sit stale and dry in those
pages and never anchor in your well-fertilized mind.

The brilliant point of Love is that I ingest the delicious
path through the woods, listen to the trees and sing with the birds.  Slowly listen to the wisdom of the gravel
beneath my feet and feed.  I rolls around
my insides, just like these words by letters by words, and are released.  A fuzzy caterpillar-looking seed, or a tight
pinecone wood flower, or a dandelion angle wing thought.  It may burrow into your cells and you then
digest and release.