 There is a thrushing light alive – dancing and whirling;
concealed by midlife shadows in my antsy eyes.
My snow-shining mountainous essence beams luminously through that shade,
but somehow its rests unnoticed in the cavernous hills of my experience.
It comes from the cauldron in which dreams are potioned.
From a womb of loving acceptance for all that was and will ever be.
It is here to awaken my belittled dream-body.
Tight-tasks and soundful-sensations clinch my attention.
My resounding grasps will echo their yodels through the valley of time.
But a silent voice lures me inward.
The deep-now seeks to liberate my meaning-seeking mind.
And yet, the overwhelming streams of my experience
inter-sleep in a cacophonous blast of reality-numbing nowness.
Let me fleet-boost my essle-tindering lowndry.
Togetherme with life’s fuddle-box.
Entickleme with your wonder-rubble.
Grasping for meaning, I edge ease-anxiously into my cornered echo-mind.
Encastled, encloistered, prismatized;
Enshrined in simplexity.
What if my inner yodeler could be completely free to …? |
Sangha of Auspicious Companions 