Zen mode

What is there to think, much less do,
when breath by breath bliss beats renew, 
a benign fire in which we burn,
borne by divine grace, which we woo.

As nodes within form gently churn,
vaporised soul awaits its turn,
to become here now self-aware,
making luminous body urn.

We lay before God, our heart bare,
trusting He tends to us with care,
ensuring our soul’s swift ascent;
truths we garner, we freely share.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2025

Poem

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