Maybe you find your center
On a couch beside a divided highway,
Where asphalt ribbons melt together
In the beautiful mess of the day's last fire,
Where light falls on upholstery
In a manufactured Southwest pattern,
Best suited to drier air but somehow
At home on a Wisconsin shoulder,
Watching the world go by
In metallic paint and autoglass reflections,
Moving too fast to catch all the names
Of almost-forgotten rivers crossed:
Rib River,
Rat River,
Jump River,
And any number of State Name Rivers.
Or maybe you find your center
On the other side of a plume of red granite dust,
Where the asphalt ends and the rivers
Are more than almost-forgotten signs
Beside a divided highway.

I listen to the whine of time
That goes in a line, a climb,
A silent sign wave; fine
Resonant and resilient,
Nearly sentient, it reminds
Of times of meditation,
Of peaceful celebration
Like music with no beat,
No melody and no lyrics
No clerics can well describe.

Whatever remains of before
I ignore; ideas like yesterday
Which is to say tomorrow,
Bring no sorrow here, no joy.
They are a ploy to change,
To rearrange the apogee
Of this lovely inner symphony
And bribe me with self-pity
In sympathy with some dream
Which once made me scream.

I imbibe in the circumstance,
A chance to muse on forever;
Words like never and regret
I forget and only think of serenity.
A rarity; an affinity with infinity
Entices me to surrender instantly
Serendipitously and trustingly,
Just me and the universe
Chapter and verse, still unwritten,
Unbidden, I surrender.

The water can heal you, if you let yourself

                                                     submerge.

The chilly fingers of the melting ice caps

will engulf you

making you feel very small

and very afraid

but then

when you erupt from the depth of self healing

you will feel the warm tendrils of the sun-rays

curling over and caressing your skin.

And everything

will

be okay

once again.