Always, On the Verge of a Breakthrough

 

Dedicated to my dear friend, Ted Rice

Tonight, the sound of rain is like a cloak,
Drawn closer than during bright hours of day.
Wind whispers through canopy of leaves.
Darkness of night quietly hides whatever spirits
Move outside, alive, under shadows of the clouds.
No light is reflected from the quarter-moon….
Still, I sense a presence along with invisible stars.

Always, I am on the verge of a breakthrough—
Impossible the day before.  Only now….
Slowly walking on this path of life,
Surrendering to or surmounting hardships,
Catching small glimpse of understanding
I could not see until this moment,
Breathing in this nighttime field,
Yielding to greater clarity.

Was I so blind only yesterday?
I did not sense before how close the river’s bank?
I failed to sense the sacred presence alive within each plant?
I could not see the holy mountain standing in front of me.
What strange ideas of God now flow,
To contemplate Creator and Protector of the world
Is part of Life itself, eternity residing deeply, invisibly,
A Presence breathing even inside of me….

What mysteries move unfathomed in the Self,
Hidden inside layers of emotions, memories,
Thoughts that run from here to momentary clearing,
Now standing at the edge of larger meadow,
Extending far, far into the darkness….
I close my eyes and inhale deeply.
Only then, do I begin to see….

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