Poems on a late evening

Twixt

I, with the deep roots
of experience that nourish
a core,
without form, within emptiness.

You, with the high branches,
forever caught by wind.
A boundary,
drawing inside and outside lines.

Living in amorphous space
we breath eachother in.
Breath for breath,
exhale and inhale.
The enticing caress of an option
not to be taken but
to be freely given.


Untitled

If only
I could keep my centre
still.
It rocks like a cyclone
ripping off chunks
of me,
flung tilt-a-whirl
into torrent.

Prayer. Rocking against the wind
an only defense,
when there is no Self to hold onto.

The tearing apart
of any definitions
hardens me against the tides.

Enough. It is just enough.
This moment.
These currents, these flows,
these unchangeable chasms.
I surrender to reverance,
the sacred shining in the dark heart.

Enough.
Just enough.
Right now. Enough.

Enough.
Enough.