Yes,
There is limitation here,
But can you also sense how,
Freely,
Your awareness moves?
From constricted mind matter,
To the tenderness of your skin,
And beyond the seeming barrier of flesh,
Awareness soars into the throat of a bird,
As it sings through the quiet rain,
And without crossing a boundary,
Awareness is now the scent of a newly opened magnolia.
Silky white petals,
Pooling with water,
Dripping down,
Sweetening the sodden grass.
Yes,
There is limitation,
And boundless freedom.
Yes,
There is lack here,
But can you also sense how,
Your awareness moves,
Away from that ache of longing,
And spills itself into your innermost palm?
How ample the padded curve of your hand,
As awareness honours the shape of you.
Yes,
There is lack,
And complete fullness.
Yes,
There is grief here,
But can you also sense how,
Your awareness of grief gently pulls you out from the depths of sorrow,
And places you on a quiet edge,
The only vantage point where both can be seen?
Both love and pain,
Life and loss.
Yes,
There is grief,
And there is the still knowing of it.
Yes,
There is a self here,
But can you also sense how,
Awareness does not need a me,
To be aware.
It requires no vessel,
No witness,
No conduit to be itself.
And that perhaps,
This boundless,
Full,
Knowing awareness,
Is who you are,
And you have just been on a journey,
From pain to birdsong,
To flower to palm,
To love,
To the edge,
Without going anywhere at all.
Yes,
There is a self,
And there is you.
The universe blazes magnificent,
Beyond the one fading star that is seen through the contracted telescope.
The mind is the soul's blind side,
Always concealing the truth of the whole,
And just beyond the tight-knit tailoring of what is here,
Lies an ever-unfolding hemline of awareness,
That unravels and gathers at the same time.
And rather than getting rid of what is here,
What is felt,
Thought and unwanted,
The greater healing comes,
From seeing there is so much more to this moment.
So much more to you,
Than you ever thought possible.
