You do not need to make long strides
To turn tides.
Or concoct excuses to suffer
Over something you fail.
In these hours of darkness, it is is a slow motion that settles, calms, regenerates.
The old ways are old news,
Banished in a twinkling, along with
Our meager pretext for progress.
Palm to your heart. Hands on the wheel.
Turning, turning toward the sun.
Can you hear it?
Buzzing is alive in the forests.
Flying creatures are returning to make company with bears.
Emerging from slumber, replenished with vigor,
Vivified in the fresh rains,
We begin again.
Resilient, wide open to inspiration as existence recreates
Out of the dark places within.
Truth telling only,
Stepping into the flow of its wake.
Unweighted by solid ground.
The limitless Lightness of being.
Saving our own lives,
Each tiny step of the way.
“One who moves the hill sets off by taking away the rocks.”Amit Kalantri
“You could eat a school bus if you ground it up and sprinkled some on your oatmeal every morning.”Phil Gaimon