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)