Precipice

There is the journey of the soul,

from love of oneself,

love of the other,

and therein the boundless love that is inherent within all.

It lays suspended at the root of awareness.

Thriving by a sun's beam,

perplexed but not quite vexed,

at the question,

of why things were, are, or will be.

Contented in the notion that there is but one motion towards the ocean,

one that is seemingly entropic, dull, and at times lonely:

But hark: because the sun rises on a beautiful new day and the flowers grow.

The day will fade into the night and the soul will take flight only for the sunshine to come again.

The barley is shaken by the wind but remains part of a holy all encompassing there-is.

And so it goes.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Some very poetic lines and lovely imagery. I particularly like your barley line. An uplifting read.

Chris