Thursday, March 27, 2014

Meditation this is not...

Noise, white
Stars, bright
Tub, hot
Meditation this is not

Must clear the mind of conscious thought
Cease all fine poetries
Quit pondering infinities

Breathe deep through the nose 
Relax the fingers, 
Relax the toes 
Let the eyelids gently close. 

Those stars that now I cannot see
How did they start to be and when
and someday will they ever end?

Breathe deep find that space 
That quiet place 
Like at your birth 
when you first 
arrived on earth 
and had no words to guide your thoughts--

And no defined sense of self
I was one with everything else
No sense of me and you and them
Of now or never, how or when--

Breathe deep through the nose
Relax the fingers and the toes 
Lay back, supine pose
Let the water cradle bones
Let your ears sink below

Noise white
Stars bright
Tub hot--

Air cold, strange about that cold I caught...

Meditation this is not.

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SCHRÖDINGER'S CAT  

Where everything that can possibly happen, does.

 

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