Poetry: The Floor of Creation

It’s right in front of my…
way?
It’s inside of my…
mind?
It’s coming up for…
air?
From way on deep, deep
down there?

It’s rising like the
tide.
It’s pulling like the
moon.
There is no place to
hide.
It’s going to happen
soon.

And then the rhyming stops.
And then the ground
reveals itself
as a window
that I fall through.

Tumbling like something sharp
that can’t find anything to cut.
Falling like a leaf
cast of bronze.

There is this location
I can’t see.
A way of seeing
that won’t take shape.
Shapes that won’t requite
recognition.
Recognition that escapes
the mind,
but makes the chest
constrict
like a fighter’s fingers
before throwing a losing punch.

I stand here with a sword
against a fog.
I reach for the promise of substantiality
given to each mortal,
only to pass through this dream
and into the next.

It’s suffuse with the diffuse.
It’s overgrown with answers.
It’s so large that I have no place
in which I can place it…
Between the mind that is too small
and the heart which is –

…the heart which is…

…and the heart which is,
bi located,
with that which I
am trying to describe
in futility,
that appears to be
outside of me.

I can’t see or understand
it all.
But that doesn’t mean
that I don’t feel it all.
It’s the kind of pain
that makes you know
God is real…
and that for all we have seen
of love…
I can see
how much we don’t yet see
which is like
seeing and being blind
in the same moment
every moment.
Full and empty.
Fed and hungry.
Sleeping while awake.
Dancing while fighting.

This is the part
where we are given the chance
to learn
what love is
and what love isn’t.

And at this point in time…we have lifted
the veil that hides love
barely even off of
the floor of creation,
and that is
a hard thing to feel.

 

 

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About skymeetingtheground

Healer, poet, author, yogi, single father...outdoorsy guy.
This entry was posted in Koan, Meditations, Poetry, prayer, Sacred Intimacy, sacred poetry, spiritual activism and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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