White wind played over the dune today
In the river of the sun
Where dreams idle and reverberate
Twisting like spines and columns of light
Where thoughts gather thick as sand and wait
In the Place of No Judgments

Here stood seven trees near a desert
Leaves un-blown by passion and desire
Branches stable and inert, movement dissolved
You see, it’s taste and distaste makes the world revolve
Becoming the midst of it all, new to the world, and not yet spent
Like aboriginal innocence…The Place of No Judgments

Black birds that would not visit fields, nor in silence cry
And having strewn themselves across the sky
Set out as a shade over fire, to keep the sun
To keep as a child un-born, a life un-begun
Unwashed in the heat of its birth, like cold iron to flint
They were changing it, that place, the Place of No Judgments

Like sparks to ash long burned away
The fish refused to swim today,
And purpose flogged its own pride
Such that it parted, as poles must separate
Like rain falling to the sky, the concourse of life has bent
No punishments hence, should this sustain…in the Place of No Judgments

Skin takes the cool from the air
And itself becomes cold and unaware
And the blue from the sky it takes as its color
The stiffness of trees, the body gives its limbs
And the breath, as a passing wind, is kept once, then spent
Life and definition…death and memory…in the Place of No Judgments

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