reality

Alone in my cabin

In the company of tickling ants,

Biting flies, and stinging mosquitoes.

Hold on a minute,

I thought I was alone.

What a trick

This idea of solitude is.

Sitting still,

I fly through the heavens

Like a bird.

Flying fast,

I run through the woods

Like a wolf.

All this movement and travel,

And going nowhere.

Excuse my silence,

And my slow unfolding movement.

I am like an unborn baby

Resting in the Infinite Ocean

Of the Cosmic Womb.

Entering further

Into the dark depths

Of the Self,

All around

I see

The jagged edges,

The murky ground,

And the broken might

Of my inner world.

Now, bruised, dirty, and limping,

I embrace the light

This darkness brings.

Sitting,

I am like a dandelion

Rooted in the palms of Life

Wind comes.

My wholeness is in pieces

Being gently blown

Across the field of Love.

 

Now anchors me

Inside the infinite ocean of Love

And carries me nowhere

To experience everything.

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.