Weaving Wisdom

Like the waves of the sea

and the

winds from the mountains

The past

and Presence

rise to

meet me.





To be heard

and seen

again through

Clear windows to wisdom,

without glass

ceilings or separations

of space or


They rise to

meet me

in this auspicious occasion

of remembrance.

In a gentle flow

or crashing of atoms

so fierce

my breath and body

Give way into the nothing

of their everything.

And together

we rise to weave.

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