Yet Storms Without
Without feet firmly planted on the earth
One becomes subject to the whim
Of the winds’ free flow
No choice, nary chance to stop
The eternal dance of life
Without the sense of Floor
Without our head/ spirit in the sky
Upright, alert, and peering forward and wide
We can lose sight of the valent reality
The invisible present which surrounds
The sacred space wherein we grow
In which our common presence abounds
Without Love and Compassion
Resident in our Heart
We have no compass,
And only arbitrary direction
Yet storms will still occur
In the air, on the ground,
And within connection
Take in stock the air, the ground, the things unseen
Know not fear, rather rely on that as we know in deed;
Just as we live, we live out our chosen dream
Copyright © Thom Allen | Year Posted 2017
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