Being. With you.

atop this hill, your beautiful hand, your precious grasp
i can feel your pulse in my chest like warm rays of sun
quietly reminding me of your affection, your presence
our fingers lay upon the same piece of earth
what we've been and what we are becoming... is right now.
an ordinary day, a bird overhead, a grey cloud, a white cloud,
a bike, the blink of your eyes, a gentle breeze, our skin touching,
coffee, a meal, conversation. the miracles of you, being. and i, being.
these miracles will happen again tomorrow and a week after that
into years beyond, stretching into forever.
we are realized and being realized.
again and again, over and over.

ear to gods breast

frustration. locked doors. gatekeepers. i've tried to open them,  pull them, convince them, i've kicked with my best kick. yet they remain, unmoved. i stand facing a glass wall; others rushing. from one end to some other...end. do i want this? can they tell? is that why they block me? they see my deception? I am. right here, right now. don't have that puritan fire. realized the miracle of the growing grass, the divinity of the gentle breeze, and the wonders of the sky. stillness, sitting, palms upward, focus, breath, awareness, nothingness, everything, my ear to gods breast.