Monday, 5 August 2013

The Ripeness Of Fruit

Opening to the porosity
Of being in the Self,
One molecule thick.
Naked in the woodland
The heart awakened to it all.

At this very edge
Where the body dissolves
So becoming sensuous being –
Light scattered among the leaves.

Sun heating up the bowl
Even as breeze cools the skin.
A tapestry of light and shade unfolding -
Oh this heart, this singing heart.

Reed stems bending in soft arcs
Fringing the shrunken pond
Being absorbed back into ground –
“This earth, the very body itself.”

The wood in full ripeness
Stretched tight against the year’s cycle
Ceaseless unbinding in fulfilment.
Opening the all seeing eye
And tasting sweet wild berries.

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