Saturday, June 15, 2013


in sweet olive twilights of early summer

with the low leaning sun slipping under the western edge

I see the same instant I saw as a child

but where once there was the absence of ego

that allowed me to be the instant

now the same reverberation of being

is soaked in every ache of identity that presumed

on the higher Self in delusion of who was who and why

and yet the the green air under the leaves

glows with the same intensity and the instant

is as always is the only moment in the only Reality

and the little ego me who thought he was his true self atones

but sweetly as if the lifetime of remorse and gratitude

into this twilight as I walk beneath these branches...

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