A Man of Glass

On the morning of liberationRoses

A yogi becomes invisible

Nothing left to reflect

light or darkness

No name to call him

All of his loves become one

All of his ghosts set free

He no longer sees the moment

He sees the world at once

Coming into and out of

Being

His glass body the only form

Left to shatter

***

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7 responses to “A Man of Glass

    • So good to see you, Hil. I think my voice is changing, and I haven’t been around much. I shifted some when I did The Wanderer and The Gardener, so I’m seeing where that goes. And you know how it is, the poetic form is always calling. In any case, I thank you for putting forth the effort. That’s all I could ever ask for.

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  1. We like pretty flowers so fresh and dewy, colorful with life. I once was, as the flowers and the delicious melon I ate this morning, juicy moist with life. The flowers know when its time to die, so why don’t we? When water can sustain no longer and blossoms fade, I draw them from the vase and cut the blooms from their stems. I place them on a plate to dry. And still, they are beautiful. It’s time they say, time to lay down and rest, time enough I’ve had. I’ll notice again and again, remember the beauty in each moment, both the gentleness of flowering and the letting go.
    Hello teacher, so nice to hear from you again though, still am very much missing the embodied you. Guess I’m not letting go very easily. I hope you’re doing well. I happened to run into Meredy a couple of weeks ago. She asked me to say Hi!

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    • Hi back to Meredy! I find that Just Let Go is kinda like Just Do It – much easier said than done. I need to find out as deeply as I can why I’m holding on in the first place. Usually there’s some ego payoff in there somewhere. But nothing wrong about missing each other, and no need to let go of fond memories. Peace.

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