Ever stop to ask how this is conjured?
The amazing thing is that there is no secret, no trick at all.
Just see through and through.
If you gazed full force at the source of light, don’t you know, it would run to seek cover behind the clouds, still shining, still sustaining, emanations from where (inside? out?) -
bright bright bright
The sun does not procrastinate or grumble when it is time to provide you light.
It has no problem being what it is, enacting itself through performance.
And you? What problem can you possibly have just being you?
Who is the true you?
It’s the one without the least scintilla of opposition anywhere in the vast universe.
You can only see a ghost when it is set against a field of other ghosts.
A ghost all by itself
leaving what is.
the peel of a bell
these mud grabbing
the thick steps
of wet earth warming
not letting go.
spring is in winter’s
of ice to water
the first robin
But the opaque milk of ice
of bell and bird
seep fervent recesses
of crystalline frost
and rich dark compost
birthing the lotus.
all our seasons . . .
Things separate from self are sirens of desire, lack and fear.
Without self, there are simply songs.