Such as wild flowers, the Ocean, white clouds
like the dew under the slant light of the new day,
like butterflies, or each and every breath

Like old photos of our dear ones,
or the reassuring sky vault, holding the stars

Those who are out there, and we can count on
lifting our hearts, with a single smile, by their bare existence

Never chanted enough, celebrated enough
yet loved endlessly, deeply
because mutually owning, existing

inexplicable,
holy
symphony