Late at night when all is still I sit by the darkened window sill and practice to allow my sight to see things as they are... Not motivations of men but this place, this house in the corner a darting mouse these words, this ink, this pen the world in a muffin tin Startling thing a rock seen thus it stills my causes and effects a change from anxious brooding trecks to surrender, calm, a sense of Us as beings apart -- contented Thus. My teacher, may we rest assured knew This as a pure unchanging truth though he himself knew only glimpses... That we are part of this and nothing more that that is enough and thru the door is not glory, wealth, an exalted Self but a strange still life on a painted shelf...
Reason for writing:
going with the sometimes tedious stillness to see
things as they are... a lifelong exercise... practice
makes... makes... poems...if imperfect.
Birth sign: Capricorn
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