How are you?
Right now, slippered feet resting upon leather cushion,
Typing, typing my mind into understanding.
Ocean waves gather, tide pulls in, pulls out.
Sun still flickers close to 7 at night.
Birds are out, singing to one another, or are they singing to us?
Telling us of a natural order that is still in flight.
In three breaths, ask me again.
How are you?
For how quickly can I spin into the story of isolation.
Anxiety wrangling my neck, my chest.
Afraid of leaning over and gazing into the eyes of oblivion.
Somehow in the not knowing, I can feel as if I am being eaten alive by an endless abyss.
There is no ground, where did the ground go?
And yet, something is supporting me.
I will probably weave in and out of different feeling states eighty times before I lay down to sleep.
As if my body has caught wind of the infinite rhythm of sponda,
Rising and falling, inhaling exhaling.
Somehow all that has kept me in place, contained, is see through.
And I know deep down it always was.
Yet, my body, my mind, are still looking out for what to grab hold of out of habit.
Let rainbow, cloth hammock rock me till the stars emerge from contrasted darkness.
Put on my warrior suit of mala beads and crystals.
Light that candle, that incense, and witness the song that emerges.
Falling into the dream world that twins with the one awake.