Quick poem. Practicing haven't written in years.
|Always fleeting through the fog of memories lost.
Often finding, never mine, but only for a moment.
More often than not, a vision of someone else's dream,
picked up, examined and envisioned. Not Mine.
would have been
if only, surround me.
Always lurching forward with quiet desperation.
The disciplined relaxation of mind,
the gurgle of the soul before it shuts down.
Ambition, pride, and arrogance
protection for my soul. Not Myself.
It is finished
So be it, surround me.
Always meditating, finite mind, infinite wisdom.
I am already