The World

It clamours for attention
jostling an already whirring mind,
peering out from life’s train carriage
eyes unable to fix on a single spot
as the world zips past
all a blur.

There is nothing to do
but force eye lids closed,
breath deeply
and lean hard upon the static soul,
that pillar within,
rooting me to the spot.

Here is begins
the restoration of the divine image
tarnished by disordered attachment,
exhausted from futile attempts
to chase manufactured contentment

And all the while
ignoring the silent action
taking place within,
drawing this fragile human frame
back home

(Written: 1.VI.17)


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