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awakening in waves
where consciousness reaches the shore of presence
only to roll back into sleep
to blend different dimensions of awareness
and fuse different kinds
of knowledge
the wind is mild
the sky blue
the seal of the moon high above the trees
the scent of morning dew
is fertile
golden sunlight on the walls
voices written into memory
dominating everything
beyond awareness
success is not an expression of succeeding
in bringing those voices to peace
a peaceful smile
on a peaceful face
in any circumstances
might say more about the state of inner demons
than any tangible manifestation
of success
all the rain did
was to reveal the utter dryness
of the land
to let it become obvious
that something has changed
it is no longer in process
the change has settled
even if
it is still not visible
for the bare eye
a crucial change
so easily quenched
in its vulnerable state of
deliverance
and yet so full of life
the sun is out
after a short shower of rain
fecund moistness is greeting
yet another day
nothing encourage growth
more than rest
rest
at the proper time
in the precise amount
for all the layers of the being
to fall into their proper place
rest
is and underestimated cure
for many ails
most of the time neglected
in the conviction
there is no time for it
until the moment
where one is brought to the knees
and can do
but rest
when glass
becomes veiled
the outlook is diminished
and the insight opaque
yet we still see through it
believing us to be
in reality
cleaning windows is indeed
a tedious work
so easily considered deprived of meaning
but what reward
when truth shine bright
in all its splendour
and the veils of illusion are letting go
one by one
a new beginning
so very different
from everything that ever was
before
and yet
so similar on the surface
as if nothing had changed
and nothing has changed
but
the mind
the day is partly grey
nothing spectacular
just like every other day
and yet
a new beginning
peace again
this sort of inner peace
where everything moves in harmonious circles
despite the wind
whirling
the movements of the long soft grass
in the sun
are mild again
the touch of the skin
vulnerable
and soft
rain again
summer rain
washing away the dust
of heat and drought
washing away the dust
of stagnated emotions
brought into movements
by floods of tears
rain again
summer rain
being a burden
is not a good place
to begin
it twists the mind
into biased understandings of
what life is
rain has refreshed the dryness
but not enough to nourish the soil
suspense between realities
of what was
and what is
to come