Of
the split, the crevice in my sphere
And
the turning pivot in my midst
I did
not say it, all: I did not think of it, then
The
bright-light – it would come when it would
It
did not often stop to make room for me
The
catching of it was all through the letting go
Not
the grasping...
And
it could wait... it was in me... timeless
It
was to do with the light tree, the crevice,
And
my vision of it...
Which
would fade when I forgot it as ‘a tree’...
As... a certain form...
But,
so vivid was its formless presence
That
it could not help but seep out, somewhere,
And
in other forms and in other realms;
It’s
influence as water, which, seeping out
Through
even the tiniest split in me
And
evaporating into thin air
Could
somehow quench my thirsting thought
For
meaning...
While
ever enthusing my inner being
To
search for more...
The
pivotal thing it was already there
The
crack in my centre already through the door
*
(Extracted from my book, The Light Tree
Journal, page 19)
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