Our Natural State
Beneath the noise of borrowed truths
and the weight of clocks that chime with urgency,
there lies a quiet field—vast, untamed,
where the soul remembers its original name.
No walls, no maps, no mirrors to hold us;
only the steady rhythm of breath,
the pulse of being untouched by thought.
Here, the sky is not a question
but a boundless answer,
its blue stretching into forever,
inviting us to dissolve.
The rivers do not seek their course;
they flow, as we do,
when freed from the dams of desire.
Conditioned beliefs fall away like autumn leaves,
leaving the stark beauty of the bare branch—
vibrant, unburdened, alive.
The Self glows, not as a beacon,
but as light that needs no witness.
There is no agenda here,
no shelf to hold the books of becoming.
Life flows on—effortless, infinite—
as we step into the stream,
not as swimmers, but as water itself.
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