find again… cross-legged me, on the floor open to inward wonderment….

cicadas fiddle along to my thoughts burning– thoughts cauterizing lines… slicing open the clouds… pouring forth sunlight–new light and soft uncertainty….

and their sounds–their little wings coax…. along with notes… to close my lids and let apprehension transform towards discovery…. is that how it happens?

i feel like i’ll never know…. like it will take the shedding of my body, my worn and used body like a shell…. split open, dried out…. to finally understand…. leave my self behind random…. clinging to leaves…. to the underneath of trees…

and what has that cottonwood seen, in it’s 48 years? grown up tall…. bark scraped away white… by petulant squirrels….  by me petulant scraper of the mind… has it? has it hovered over anyone as folded as me?

and so i fold…. and bend and stretch… breathing in the rug beneath me… straighten myself…. waiting for divinity to emerge…. surya namaskara….. namaste….

“The Divine in me honors the divine in you”

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