The Sound of Being


Time well spent
What does this mean?
Time is a human fabrication,
a lie,
an attempt to measure the immeasurable,
a system by which we collectively agree
to structure our moments, our lives.
When we sit in the moment, in stillness,
there is no time, only being.
We use time so that we might
know how to make our paths converge,
so that we might get our teeth cleaned
or our hair done,
or be interviewed,
or learn,
or be operated on,
or be entertained…
but sometimes life has different plans.
So much can happen in one instant,
and where are we left
if our illusion has been shattered,
and suddenly we are broken open,
thrust into being?
Slowly, I want to dissolve my own
attachment to time,
and become more patient,
create more space within
to experience everything that is happening now,
that I might really see it, this moment,
and not just the incessant turning of hands
the ticking of seconds,
the clanging of alarms.
I want to be fully absorbed in this moment,
beyond time, space, and physical phenomena,
that I might hear my breathing,
and through this listening,
hear the very universe
as it breathes in and out,
singing one song,
pulsing one single droning note,
the sound of being.

4 responses »

  1. I find it so inspiring that you take the stuff of everyday life and the deeper ponderings of a searching mind and are able to express it all so beautifully in a poem. Day . . . after day . . . after day. It’s so beautiful, Lorien. Thank you.

    • Aw, shucks Maxine! Thank you! It took a moment to pick up my writing momentum again, but it feels like I really have it going now, and it’s such a relief. I wrote religiously in my journal when I was on my own, and didn’t have a regular writing practice for years after my children came. It’s a homecoming to write regularly again; I just so grateful to have this opportunity.

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