SamadhiMuse

What prevents your witness of this place
   but the urges of your blood
      and all the drama that follows?

Here, where the sun pours liquid, 
   you pass by in a vision
captured by nature's dream 
   of fitness and the raging of genes.

In and out of that still point 
   you turn like dream warriors
self-reflected in your inner eye 
   and in the stories you tell yourselves.

But past the end of the dance 
   something waits, still and serene.
It is the quiet moment 
   when your water's been poured
but hasn't yet 
   run down to the sea.

There, 
   there is no dance, 
no counterpoint, 
   no singing in the wires.

just a moment of freedom 
   to commune 
with the sun's blessing
   and to witness 
the rise and fall 
   of the fields of flowers.

Time to see the dance 
   and the singing 
      as if for the first time
without the urge 
   to spill yourself.

A time to witness the children's faces 
   smiling new at that same beauty,
before they begin, 
   that you can see, 
      now that you are done.

The puppy at play, 
   the gentle wind in the grass, 
      the light that can shine
 from an eye with love;
    be it animal, 
      child 
         or man.

That sweet blessing 
   behind the play of forms, 
      that beneficent something
 that embraces 
   all of this coming and going, 
      all the mystery and beauty.

Oh, Beloved, 
   carry my sweet Pythia away 
      into your light,
and, Blessed One, 
   whisper to her softly 
      how well she was loved.

                                          gallagher
                                            17 Jun 07

— Copyright 1965-2008 by Dennis Gallagher —