SOMA

You and I are not a body.

Though most of us treat these sacred garments like second-hand robes,

they are each a holy temple that will go the way of ash and bones.

You and I are not a body.

We are a heart-mind-river instead.

We journeyed here from ancient times

and enter The Great River in the end.

 

MOUNTAIN-DANCING

Last night,

I heard

the moving arc

of the stars again.

I'd forgotten how their song can be a trustworthy companion

if we listen closely enough.

 

I gazed into the cicada-blessed darkness,

as a ringing in my ears spoke of unspoken truths.

The Rain-Callers chirped their precious refrain

as the spirit of the trees reminded me all over again;

a silent contentment awaits

when we remember our place

in the great weave of the ten-thousand things.

 

GETTING BACK TO SQUARE ONE

Guard well the heart-mind-river in these times.

Take back up the old peace-tending practice:

quiet-breathing by candlelight.

Step into autumn's inner work:

a deep study of the difference

between pretending, and tending a life.

 

In the school of soft-attention,

we ask questions of ourselves

in the morning, and the night.

 

Where is this heart-mind-river meant to flow?

What or whom is blocking where and how it is meant to go?

How am I sabotaging a clear-seeing of what the soul is trying to show?

 

THE NIGHT WE DRANK FROM THE INVISIBLE CUP

The Great Eye

of the Heart-Mind-River

sees all things.

 

But,...

you

already

knew

that,

didn't you?


(c) 2018 / Frank LaRue Owen (Wandering Stone Lantern) / purelandpoetry.com

sound: Kali / Yearning / Robert Rich and Lisa Moskow

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