The practice
Today
Has been
Not so much
A flow
But
A tumble,
Bumping
And crashing
Into one
Hard place  
Then the next,
As I breathe
Space
Into the gaps
And smile
With
The thought
That today
Seems not
For floating.

I bring
The third eye
To the ground
And breathe,
Feeling the
Weight
I call “mine”
In the world
That we share.
He calls out,
Stops me,
From behind
And asks
For the part
That comes
After
The writing,
The part
That is
Us
Loving
Us.
And I
Pause
Insight
And slip
This weight
I call “me”
Back
Into bed
For some
Cuddles.

It slinks
Around the edges
Of my
Intention
As I flow
And pause
And flow,
A version of
The Questions
Without
Answer,
Asking me
To prove
That
I am.

I hear you
Moving
Behind
Me
And before
Me
And I hear
A bit
Of me
Say no
To what
It feels like
To love you
Right now,
So I turn
To that bit
And lean
Into all
It is
Until
It is
All
There is
And without
Bits
It’s only
The love.

I approach
My mat
Weary
And wary
Of what
I
Have
To offer
From
Beneath
The grip
Of pain,
And pain
About pain,
And about
That,
Too.
But the rhythm
Is easy
To track
To warmth
That melts
The intention
Between layers,
Between knower
And known,
Seer and seen,
And then,
Suddenly,
Between now
And now
And now.
And when  
After arrives
(And me
With it),
I notice
What’s
Been offered
And relish
The relief.

I circle
‘Round
Bends
That live
In my body
Even
When
We
Are
Still,
And look
Past
The path
I carry
With me
To the ask
I’ve not
Heard
Clearly
(Ever,
Or for some time).
And I
Take
The hand
I know
As mine,
And step
Into
The light.

I rise
And lift
And feel
The tug
Of Earth
On the flesh
I call mine,
And the tug
Of love
On the songs
I call mind.
And my smile
And I
Tug back
Before settling
Into one
Or none
Right now.