Not in a map
so much as a practice —
the practice of presence,
the practice of catching
the tiny upliftments
each moment holds —
the silent flowing,
the intricate crystalization,
the clasp of life,
always a celebration,
every living thing reprising
life’s essential properties,
joy ever being what rises
like oxygen, what fills and blesses,
what confirms my being here.
©Wendy Mulhern
February 20, 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment