But does the sun really have an edge?
Always, always needing to define ourselves.
Always reaching for something to push against,
As a way of staying solid.
A death grip on control.
Never asking what happens
When it is absolutely let go.
Not removed, since our lines
Are only fantasy to begin with.
And we are only just
Learning to get real.
Let’s let the wild horses ride.
Let them gallop where the air freshens.
And rest assured that it will lead
To green pastures and clean waters
So abundant that it never needs dividing
Amongst squabbling siblings.
We are so rich.
Who knew
That there is no such thing as an end,
And the spring comes out of itself.
Every moment is another infinity.
The thing we reach for
Is made of the same stuff as our hands.
Better to just notice
We are already embraced.
