I am used to being grounded
In one divided time and place,
Burdened by worries and cares,
Anchored in past and future times,
My thinking dominated, never really free in Now.
Being lost, without adequacy of words—
Emerging in singularity of sacramental time….
Only mine, free of need to act as
Inaction is important to finding me.
When was the last time you welcomed
Being lost within this floating world of space,
Without seeking to find yourself….
Just hanging in this incredible lost place?
My daily work clothes within the world
Are woven of heavy cloth of disillusionment.
Now I partake of sacrament of co-existence
In a separate space… timeless,
If only for a minute.
For now, I am naked to this miraculous instant—
Without hopes or fears,
Resting in an inward
Morning filled with grace.