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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