The Clear Bead at the Center

Several weeks ago, deep in the night, in my bed, in the dark, I experienced this:

My mind bouncing around in fear like a jetliner bounces around when flying through a rough storm. Caught in that turbulence, I couldn’t think of what should have been obvious and easy regarding one of my projects. I couldn’t think at all. . .

All of a sudden
My mind
Dead quiet stillness.
And in the center
one clear pearl.
Slow motion
Dropped into
a pool of
shimmering, silky, steel-gray water.
I watched as
Droplets splashed up
and out from that
absolutely still

A line from a Rumi poem came to me:

The clear bead at the center changes everything.

I saw a shell of
fear crack
A moment of shaky
Is there a chance?
That I actually
be able to
see, to
think, to

This entry was posted in Phoenix Rising, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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