I close my eyes and travel
sometimes like a feather shot from a cannon,
sometimes like a swarm of bees in a hat dance, and sometimes I travel
as a horse may pull an anvil through some hedgerows,
I travel not so light, not so fast, or deep,
but thoughty, jumpity, needy, roughly,
I go to my goal, but always,
always as I travel, as I close my eyes,
I travel along as a thought,
Deeper, deeply deepest.
I am carried
on a sound,
on a breath,
on the feeling,
I go home to silence,
Majestic, pure, vast, empty,
and there,
at this sacred place,
just before
and just after,
Thought is powerful.
In this place,
think of the quality of being happy,
and a mariachi band comes
in ten gallon hats
ball fringed
tailored jackets tight
spats buttons
jumping and tapping
like peppers in a skillet,
or the thought of being friendly,
just the seed,
nudge it,
and suddenly you feel
like the mayor of Mayberry
receiving guests from Raleigh.
Now in silence,
in this place,
take a thought,
nudge it,
and travel out to the moon
over mountains, and rock,
over dust, and craters,
topographical shadows
flying
out and out
till a distant object grows closer
becomes:
The sun,
there in front of you,
nose to nose,
undulating
pulsating
its dull, bass, rumbling boil,
slip now,
to its core,
experience the stillness,
there is no place you need be more.
there is no place you need be less.
you are the sun.
you are the spiraling swirl of dust,
the turn of seasons,
the watch spring,
the roof of the universe,
its floor, the seat,
you are the endless naked lack of fear.
you are the boundaries.
you are the floating zeppelin.
you are the fragile bubble.
the endless place,
you are the point.
you are infinity.
you are the expansion.
you are the sacred expression.