When you wake up…
In the morning
What do your eyes see?
What does your heart feel?
Are you ready to meet the world,
and, is the world ready to meet you?
The world is…
glorious, wondrous
A paradise, heaven
Or
The world is…
a dangerous place
a pit of fire, a damnable hell
that somehow you have created
Or
It is both.
For each challenge
for each painful movement
For I have trod,
either the greenest of plush grasses
Or through edgy rough patches of bramble
If the matter is, I lament my place,
Or, I give love in hopes it is returned,
I’ve have accepted pain as a portal to some place sweeter
and not condemned it
When I am confronted with evil…
I choose to love
I choose kindness
I choose to embrace
I choose grace
I choose to see you smile
I find Yoga is like that,
an entangling process
amid fluid movement and strain
the poses both daunting and satisfying
which in the end
at Savasana, a sleep, of sorts,
I am in discovery of small bits of heaven
a sweeter taste on my lips of poetic words,
of the clear sounds of brilliant songs playing in my head
of nostrils full of a soft violet fragrance
my burden is lightened,
and the touch is more like
velvet peace and joy
And love
