Most times I am choppy and chaotic
churning in an edge less void
I’ve forgotten my beginning
and don’t ever think I will reach the end

it is not till the wind turns its back on me
that the moment gives way to silence
where this light has room to be
casting it’s rays past the greyness
above which the blue sky remains

it is not till I am bathed in a wakeful
but silent presence do I know
I am not only the waves
churning, choppy and chaotic

I am the ocean that has always cradled it’s waves expanding with every fallen droplet
of my all encompassing existence ebbing and flowing as the infinite spaciousness of all that is