This Way-infused way
calls me quietly
to the midnight veranda.
Late-Evening Empty Mind
mirroring the deep space
from which rivers and mountains flow.
Pen in hand.
I await for the Wide-Rambling Spirit
that first taught me how to bow down
and worship at Spoken-Word Temple.
Tightly-wound coil of the soul
loosened by way of silent illumination.
There is no such thing as aloneness
with ride-alongs the likes of Pine-Forest-Clarity-Mind.
But,…I’ll let you in on a little secret.
Every morning I awake
and ask the same question:
Who is riding with whom?
(c) 2018 / Frank LaRue Owen (Wandering Stone Lantern) / purelandpoetry.com