I am the cushion
On which the
Present moment sits.
Its weight I can handle,
But when Yesterday and Tomorrow
Add their weight,
I am flattened.
As it goes,
Now is the only weight
That keeps me firm.
Being
Who knows what tomorrow will bring?
Well, Tomorrow does,
But it will not tell anyone.
Not until you give birth to it
As an act of Love.
Old man sitting in my house,
Consciousness.
Guiding me to God,
Emptiness.
“Let go. Let go,” he said.
Hold on to just being,
Nothingness.
And now we share the same home,
Oneness.
Rise to Emptiness
Fall to Nothingness
To rest in-between Nothing and Empty,
Is to become No body.
The weight of my meditation cushion
Is the thoughts I bare while sitting.
I float away,
Float away
As mind stuff leaks out
Into the infinite now.
In solitude,
The past and future
Would deafen my peace
If not for the muting
Ability of the timeless present
In my being,
I learn to touch heaven,
And earth,
With the same finger of Awareness.
