Saturday, 7 September 2013

Rain Moistening Dry Earth

This hand that moves
This eye that sees
This tongue that tastes
This ear that hears –
What comes before?

In which sense
The Beauty of mind?
As soft rain moistens dry earth.

Slipping between waves
Rising on a spiral
Boring deep into earth core –
Trying to find the key
To unlock love's eternal mysteries.

Sitting quiet
As the candle flickers
And incense coils.
The empty cushion beside me
Holding presence without form.

A time of tides
A time of shifting seasons
A time to accept the gifts of being -
Picking sweet sour blackberries by the canal.

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