Savory Yarrow began a beautiful penpalship with me after noticing a comment I made on Rob Bresny's Free Will Astrology Page. I was disappointed by Bresny's comment as I had once looked forward to reading his astrology. He seemed to take my curious comments as a personal attack (which they were not, and I am careful to not do that), and so a new friend was born out of the passing of an ideal. Savory's poem came by Telegram on the 27th of November 2022, just hours before notice of the possible evacuation of the Island. I am often reminded of our temporary lives here and how lucky we are to be guests here on this place (wherever the place may be). Platonic agape seems to be something people have forgotten, and so I felt Savory's poem was an anthem for our generation; a salve, a medicine much as the name alludes to, so he say and whistled and then I sang. Even if it is or is not in tune...it is the touching sincerity of creation I hope this cookie digests with you all well:

When we give ourselves over

To the moment we are in,

There's a kind of being sober

From drunken self-delusion.

If that moment is what's real

And the rest is an illusion,

May we find out how we feel

And discard all our confusion.

Regardless of phase of life

Or how much we have suffered,

Release the memory of strife

In peaceful now be covered!

Who is the one who sees

That energetic glow,

Enveloped within seas

A creature of this flow?

Naked as wind-blown sand

Naked as lava chilling

Naked as a wave on land

Naked as newborn children

What is their pronoun,

The one who sees how

The world is known

In this moment now?

Is it 'I', or 'me', or 'he', or 'she'?

If it say 'you', then it is 'we'.

If it say 'we', then it is 'thee'..

How else can this eye be free?

— Poem by Savory Yarrow, Hawaii

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