This morning there is peace.
The chasing pack of
hounds is absent.
Just here, now, the silence.
As I stand in this
stillness a song thrush calls,
and my body vibrates
with a deeper truth.
That this is a world of exquisite order
that holds everything
and remains serene,
past, present and forever.
I feel my deep connection
to this perfection,
and a sadness
that this moment too must pass.
That I cannot hold onto
this sublime vision.
That this sense of belonging
cannot be sustained.
There’s just this gentle pulsing of life
living itself, living me.
This bittersweet beauty
makes me weep,
Brings me deeper into
the body, where this is already known,
embedded In the bones,
the tissues.
Knowing this embodied being
must live this embodied life
with its joys and sorrows
among the ten thousand things.
Even the hounds of hell
have earned their place here,
and fear, too, the dark presence
that shares my house.
There are no strangers
on this path.
Everything belongs