Start small: this one leaf, maybe,
cartwheeling past you with nothing on its mind,
just cartwheeling. It’s finished its work. It’s off now.
Follow it to the shaggy grasses where it stops,
wild grasses who seem satisfied with themselves,
yellowing calmly at the edge of a wood,
nodding yes and no in the breeze. They
don’t seem to need to agree or disagree.
And the woods. All those trees, and not
a single opinion. Imagine all they know
about sun and seasons, nutrients and bugs,
how to endure, and how to provide,
without judgment, how they murmur
to each other deep underground in networks
reaching to the sea. And the sea that always
throws its arms open no matter what,
singing its shanties under the palm of the sky,
and the sky, all its gowns of clouds, its jewelry
of rain and snow and its blue nakedness
without any style whatsoever, going on out
into space, which also has no style, it just is,
and on beyond that into the vastness of
your heart, which, yes, encompasses
all this, and refuses to be any smaller
even though, inside God, it is the littlest thing.
__________________
Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light
www.unfoldinglight.net
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