Meditation Hour
Naked in lilacs, naked in spring.
Uniform in the earth, and of self.
Does life permit time, or do we permit it?
Karma is fast, but love is more eloquent,
and I’d rather spend my time
racing towards a curious idealised secret
versus a daily lived experience.
Meditation asks: "Can I be your refuge?"
I reach out to touch dirt, wet, turned to mud now.
Mud squelches out of joy.
I’ve heard others’ worth or pace compared to dirt,
but isn’t that where the source of all life comes from,
where it all goes?
It’s foolish to believe that there is nothing
while there is consciousness.
Pardon my intrusion on yours;
I only intended to make your day brighter.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
