poeming on a thursday

Beyond the Self

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing
and rightdoing there is a field.
I'll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass
the world is too full to talk about."


Let's meet in that field,
lie down in the dying grass,
look up at the sky,
the endless, beautiful sky. 

Words won't come.
Ideas will drift away,
No identity. No self.

Just the world,
the whole wide
beautiful world,
under the same
endless sky;

loved forever,
held in the embrace
of the atmosphere
and the grace
of gravity.