Blessed aloneness

Last night the house hummed with silence.

For the first time in a long while no human guests were around. The wind had abated to a soft leaf rustle, possums neglected to walk across the metal roof, the mouse chose not to chew in the wall cavity near the bed, and even the ghosts took their spirited presence elsewhere.

Nestled in sleepy contentment. Happy.

Blessed aloneness. A condition rare in our socially crowded, obligated world.

Morning has come. In the dim wet light of dawn my blue breakfast bowl sits as serenely as a monk’s begging bowl. A pervasive preciousness of time drips in tune with the movement of mist.

Now, the work must begin anew. There is meaning and responsibility in this blessed aloneness.

May the elements flay.
Flay with feathered fronds
strip me bare of expectations
and endow a puer wisdom.

May I look onto the revealed inner bark as onto a mirror.

May I remain unhurried. No distractions.

Just the pure privilege of unencumbered connection to earth, air, fire and water. This, and the acceptance.

Eventually
everywhere I look
awakened heart seeing
into awakened heart.