Twenty-one minutes

Under white sun
I turned my mind inward.
Early morning field,
a lane between two hedges.

Twenty-one minutes.
My mind called to peace
by a mantra of compassion
ringing in my heart.

I opened my eyes
to a forgotten scene
of grass and path and wind
calling me back to the world

when - as if called to mark
a successful journey -
two horses walked out
from morning sunlight.

Untethered from field to path
their hot breath on my hand
the most peaceful greeting
before they set on their way.

One trailed a rope
caught on a briar bush
back and forth until
the rope broke free.

Then - with nothing left to keep them
both turned from that open path
past me, in silence,
to the morning field that held them.

Patience builds a fire

I cover myself in a cloak.

Crouching down, head bowed,
my world becomes a cave.
I turn inside and light a fire
in the darkness -

a seed of a flame
sheltered from the world’s winds
as I close every door
and feed it.

The offer of this inner fire -
the heat of passion
and the light of clarity.
But both are spent easily.

Throw open the doors
and the fire burns bright
and the fire burns out.
Leaving only ashes.

But protect the spark and
nurture the first flames,
build it well and feed it well
through rush and crack
to slow burn embers that
hold their own against
the ice of winter’s night.

Patience builds a fire.
Patience and devotion
and quiet attention.
To be seduced by the first flash
of a fire’s power is to lose it.
Don’t sit back. Don’t try to use it.
But remember the power
of a warm hearth that
does not succumb
to a cold, dark world
but endures and, what’s more,
radiates warmth to all.

Hold me like a wave

When I’m crashing
then I need you
to hold me

like a wave
holds a rider 

lifting me
on the thundering rise
to show me the horizon

that I might vanish
in the gift
of great distance

and then
when I surrender
to this open, wide awareness
give way and let me go
and show me
I don’t need
to be carried

I need to be thrown
to be shown
I can stand up
and fall down

on my own. 

The path

The path from here to there
is the path from there to here.
It just depends which way you look at it.
When you are ready - 
turn round and look the other way.

I am ready. 
I turn around. 
I look the other way.