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you were born

one day

from a womb –

one arbitrary point

of beginninglessly concatenating



At the base of your story

is breath.

What is

at breath’s base?

Out Of Stillness

Nothing apart,

out of stillness

come words,

gestures, and actions

true to silence.


Gratitude need not be occasionally directed only to some especially deserving other (though that of course has its place);

it can be a consistent way of being and acting in the world,

your every act and expression a deep bow,

the one bowing and the one bowed to,

just as each is,

not two,

not one.

Being The Ones

Isn’t it time to be the ones?

To no longer look to external authority –

to ‘Thou shalt not’  –

instead functioning as

‘We are ones who . . .’.


Thoroughgoing selflessness –

this very time being –

forgets to forget, freely

recalling and envisioning,

ranging without trace.


Sometimes seeing

the path you took

or your turning

to the horizon

are aspects

of the present.

This Time Being

When you are fully present,

past and future are not.

When you are fully present,

the present is not.


It’s not a matter

of finding the truth.

It’s a matter of living

out of authentic delusion,

of creatively manifesting form

true to the formless. 

Nothing Else

Nothing else happens

besides what happens.

But it is not a matter

of fatalism:

creativity surges.  


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