A poem on the slow return to a more original state: simply feeling and being.

When we give ourselves the space
to empty the mind,
a slow return
to a more original state
opens:
becoming the shape
of elements
from which we descend
and of which we are composed.

Clinging to rocks,
soaking in sunlight,
absorbing water
becoming like ancestor algae
primordially silent
floating
in a pool of
being
feeling
emptying.

There is nowhere to go here
and nothing to do.
Instead,
exist as a matter of nature
between earth and sky.
Find only sensation here,
and raw, unfiltered being
beyond and within thought and no-thought.

Here: no need for mental clutter,
stress or disorder
only the opening of desire
for melding with one’s surroundings
distinct
but also inherently connected
and drawn to rapture of union.

Be here until sun fades into cool night
as if in a fishbowl of stars.
Swim in this round pool of being,
a smattering of jewels falling all around,
planets shining like glowing beacons
in black velvet night.