gives way to mosquito like thought
of pinching shoes and the revs
of a too fast motorcyclist.
Hot sun drips cold down my spine
sticking the singlet to my back
and turning thick summer air
into present moment aware.
Dancing emptiness rises
for itself to itself, without
the other, it does not exist.
It only opens to itself.
And this dipping and diving
of ideas and memories
hopes and desires are that,
which it seeks to embrace .
The same, the One, the love
the division, the rising the falling
the opening and closing
exist only in the darkness of no space.
Deep deep release into that
which we are, in this moment
beyond the confines of thought
lead to only the flowering of now.
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