The twig is caught in the flow of the stream.
I am the twig; I am the stream.
Life is a dance
within a dream,
of the twig
and of the stream
In a clear pinpoint moment,
all of time,
all of movement,
and all of mind.
They are the threads.
They are the tapestry.
They are the karma.
There is a thoughtless intention,
A silent grace.
A desire to bring all pains,
and in this place,
ferment until only bliss
remains.
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Author:
emptypot (
Offline) - Published: July 28th, 2024 16:19
- Comment from author about the poem: Other than adopting a slightly odd spacing and punctuation to try and find its rhythm, I have avoided re editing because I wanted to just capture the feeling as it manifest.
- Category: Spiritual
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Qurrathul Ain
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