Meditation
I sit to tend my thoughts and
Something fragile-green pushes it's way
Like a kindergartner's paper-cup bean sprout
Unfurling, struggling, shedding chinks of dirt,
Through the toil-soil of my soul.
Soul soil I thought was rotting, stinking, shameful
Debris of me
Turned into nurturing, blossoming, joyful
Seat of me
When I sat to tend my thoughts.
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1 comment:
Meditation.
Beautiful.
Mmmm.
What am I missing.. that--despite tons of evidence showing how much I need it--I still do not use this tool? Anywhoo... Good for you.
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