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Saturday, June 11, 2011

The Medicine of This Moment

I am for this moment of healing
calm – balm for my frenzied soul 
manifests in the the form of
sitting lightly, palms upward religiously
wondering where this gossamer feeling will lead

First) a foreword before we go backward:
to the Christian, of once I was,
it is prayer, a connection to something Greater,
to the Taoist, it is a search
for the possible Possible.
Etheric yet tenuously tangible –
a sacred something I can use.

Now the leap of blind faith takes place
to where Connection had taken place before,
gone but not forgotten and the question is:
Have we forgotten the Way ?
And more importantly:
Have I become too cluttered and clogged ?
Too blessed with everyday chores and whatnot ?
Has my Sunday become the Twelfth of Never ?
A manana mantra of missed Connection ?

An anxious answer this way comes:
One cannot lose what one existentially is,
The pretense is revealed as such:
All but the Way is acting:
A sort of self-imposed exile from ectasy:
To cease this nonsense, I must be committed
away from all routines which cement my wings.

©Frank Coughlin June 2011

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