I feel
The world
Move
Around
Me,
Lain
Still and quiet,
And watch
The urges,
The questions,
The answers,
Rise
And fall
Away.
And I
Breathe,
And feel
The world
Move the
Most quiet,
Most still
Parts of me,
And the sound
Of “still”
Becomes “skull,”
And the sound
Of “skull”
Becomes its
Image,
And my mind
Settles
Buzzing
Blue wings
Just above
The left
Temple,
Before
I smile
And wiggle
Fingers
While
The chimes
Bring me back.

I follow
The dark
In my head,
To familiar
Edges
I know
And know
Don’t
Have
What is
Promised.
And I
Lift
My chin
To look
Beyond
Where light
Falls
And bounces
And suddenly
The light
Splits
And I remember
My way
Back.

I notice,
Suddenly,
A path
Between
Now
And
Then,
Between
Here
And
There
Between
I
And
Thou.
And I
Recognize
All spaces,
Then,
As paths.

My limbs
Folded
Beneath,
I bend,
Descend,
Bring the eye
Between
To ground
Below
To ground
Me.
And I notice,
I bring
Emily
To rest
Here
Sometimes,
In the pose
Of a child
Where the world
Goes
Still.

I glide
Between
Arms
And
Push heart
Before
Crown
And smile
As love
Clothed
As worry
As panic
As spite
Insists
Something
Wrong
Must be
Right
Or made
Right
For I am.

I approached
My Self
With kindness
This morning,
Preparing
The space
To support
And to stretch,
To tear
So to mend.
I received
My Self
With kindness
This morning,
And then
We
Received
You.

I breathe,
And notice
Their shades
There
With me,
The older
And the younger,
Quietly
Yearning
To be
Received.
My mind
Pins
Them there,
In respective
Corners,
Puzzles
To be sorted
And compiled,
Until my
Heart does
What my mind
Cannot.
Then we breathe
And we settle.

When a flower begins to grow,
do you hear it cry?
Does it fret about the water supply,
or the illogical odds of snow?
In spring does it wish for the summer,
or that rather it grew by the lake?
No- it blooms without worry, with grace,
and this is Man’s biggest mistake.

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.