There is a smoothness to the

Texture of ordinary days.

Ease and effort are the same,

Quiet gentleness and holy light.

Each object flowing effortlessly

Into every other object yet each

Remaining what they are while at the same time,

Knowing they are all made of the same things that are not them.

“Water takes the shape of the vessel that contains it,

Yet has no shape of its own” (Mooji)

What is my place in this quiet?

I am the water outside of the vessel,

The space the wind occupies between the trees,

The pause between the breaths,

The observer of the smoothness of ordinary days and

The light that exists at the center of the flower.

I am eternal.  

(Poem #3 of the April Poetry Month’s 30 poems in 30 day challenge)