Floating

Floating

.

.

.

.

.

On some kind of film

warm and wet and undulating

derived not from external physical matter

but by a mysterious matrix of self-compassion materializing within.

Moving through me like butter recently,

these ebbs and flows of life.

Where did this newfound grace come from?

Oh, how I have been patently waiting for you to show up at my door.

Welcome, come in.

Please, take a seat here, in the hearts center.

Towering trees of many textures envelop me.

I use my two strong, miraculous legs to carry me on this unfolding path.

Wether it dirt or destiny,

is there a difference?

The river flows over my bare feet.

Tumbing, slowly polishing the multicolored roots that swim like a tropical schools of fish,

I see this world as if it were through a kaleidoscope.