I’m Home

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Nothing is ever still.
Even window glass is liquid,
although it flows at a pace
far too slow for our eyes to detect.
And our eyes…
they only see certain wavelengths of light.
Our ears…
they only hear certain frequencies of sound.
When I remember
that I simply do not have the faculties
to grasp the inifinite nature
of what is really happening,
I can deep a breath,
take a step back,
and recognize
that the thing I call a “problem”
is just another play of phenomena
in this ever changing world of form.
As I relax around the many plays of form,
I can tune into what is formless in me.
And then…I’m home.

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