Tranquility
We stretch our yawn at dawn each morn,
before thoughts stir, as the unborn,
with deep peace suffusing our form,
in the skies of bliss mists airborne.
Throb of magnetism, cool and warm,
is the pulse to which we conform,
in this lucid dream wide awake,
motionless in love’s benign storm.
We savour life but claim no stake,
choosing to give rather than take,
as prompt of divine light dictates,
whilst remaining calm like a lake.
Squashing ego craving that baits,
bliss borne rapture never abates,
so thus at peace, poised in the void,
we’re already at heaven’s gates.
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