Prepared to Burn the Proof

Pickling jalapeños and canning salsa. Library books on self-sufficiency and mini-farming. Mom and Dad's 51st Anniversary is this week and Kyle returns from Dallas. Two distinct pulses of consciousness occupy the same stream and finally I am starting to get my bearings.

Invest, be aware but attach not. Even the happiness of my own reflection in your eyes?

My obsession and adoration of weathered clothespins. Seeds drying on a kitchen cloth. Sure, I can change things a little but perhaps these perceived restrictions are my svadharma.

As night curls a thieving crook around hopes for sleep, maybe I could read to you a poem. How do you feel about Bly? “A man and woman sit near each other . . .”

A life consecrated. Now I have fallen in love with the universe because of you – you who awakened in me the place where I am love.

Yet, add my attachments to the aging scroll for I see them now and am prepared to burn the proof.

Changes, not in our doing but in our being.

I know the light and love that I am now and I can only be this.

Imagine; this whole time, a dialogue with myself!

Return to Love.

We –
rivers rushing
into one sea