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Poem

Every night the gates of delirium are torn apart
the irrational flies across the moats and walls of my defenses 
as easily and seductively as a murmuration of starlings,
and I am rescued
carried away on a magic carpet.

And each morning I arise into sanity again
like clockwork.
The doors of perception are thus opened for us all, 
all the time,
and yet equally are blown or thrown shut.

Against all odds I have found peace with this
from following whispered words,
and signs as subtle as 
the direction leaves fall and flowers face.

So now I have no concern for gain or loss
or the endless display of chaos
and the natural order that is the world.

How do I do it?

I plant my mind like a stake
hammered in to hold a tent firm
regardless that there is no tent, no shelter, 
just the stake, and planted thus
the winds of chaos are loosed and welcomed.

Come what may, what harm may come?
For without even a tent there is no cord 
and thus no way for the stake to pull free.

And so there is just awareness in the storm
awareness in the calm
awareness in the no-space
where order and chaos dance and play
gently as they make love.

(originally published in my 3rd book of poems SUN MADE FLESH AND FIBER, 2019)

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