Back at the midpoint

SOC Writing _ 16.6.21

Back at the mid point

Where I point my finger and find it pointing back at me. The backed up me against a tree – my tree of life – strife – cutting my insides like a knife – I know no way out of this nicely, or through perhaps? This way of life flowing out from me – makes the lame to walk and the blind to see – Aue aue! Open prison doors sets the captives free - there’s are river of life flowing out from me. And then – my night has been a fraught table of unknowing – unknowing – not knowing – having put myself out there for her to feast upon – I am in the unknown ground of my heart – still on the field of love – but wondering whether I will be punished for being so messy – can her love take all of me and still be herself? I am incredibly worried and then the love inside me says: peace – be still – the stress leaves and my heart opens like the kaleidoscope of colour – dead leaves giving their riot as though they separate from their mother of life – as though they die and give back more than when they lived. Death and birth - death and life - all in the same turning – all arising from the ether in the dunno mind – dunno mind is a good mind to wear – at times like this – and all the time. Awaiting for me in the depths is a pearl of great price – I came upon it when I least expected it – holding its ordinary shell – and only realising in the aftermath that I was holding treasure all along - that you dear one have been such immensity from the moment our eyes locked - and the doors may be locked still to your inner chambers and rightly so as I amble and bumble my way round your temple. So fixed on what’s happening to me that I miss the sight my soul had its sights on from early on – from the gaze at your moving body to the extremity of a night under cold stars and even colder finding a way through this thing we call love, back into each other’s arms – a hope, a prayer and then just a trusting letting go.