Words From The Cushion

The world is like a river flow
Though sitting, I am still
Amidst the shifting tides, my heart
Takes shelter in one-pointed will

A ripple on the stirring waves;
A laugh into a desert storm;
I watch the evening bleat and fade
As emptiness at play in form

A gust of wind upon my skin:
I breathe, and feel it pass
Recalling what we always knew
Now whispered in the grass
Which carried here upon the breeze
Is heard still by those few
Who listen calmly to the trees
And talk with morning dew
noxlucida noxlucida
Jan 12, 2013