silent sitting

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.

 

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.