You take no credit, as the night

sky takes no credit for the moon

she writes as if only to me

And I ask her

How can I be that vessel of emptiness

who by being nothing

invites everything?

You have to love yourself enough.

(What? What does that mean?)

Hold out your hands

open your stance

throw your head back

and say I AM ENOUGH

I am so exquisitely, infinitely enough

that no credit

is necessary

and then

only then

can what wants to be birthed

from the mystical source

be gentled into opening

the way soft winds

caress tall grasses into waves and cascades

There is a rhythm to it — like an echo

the emptying and the emerging

over and over again.