Compassion is water to parched soil.
I saw a forest green on my mantlepiece.
From by my pillows, I lay in the waning moon.
Their leaves a stark reminder of stability,
Of the emerald haze of being.
Some are lush and thriving
Some are wilting and dying.
We are the same.
We all die many small deaths,
Yet we all come alive
With a single droplet.
