May the sanctuary of this practice.
Held so keenly by the two winged crow.
Bursting with its chatter.
Sending its message from retreatants to the heavens.
Perched on the pinnacle of our hall.
Viewing our own longing for freedom.
Covered over by the dark door of our own hope and fear.
We sat quietly - unruffled by the unseen.
The weight of our own shadows.
Slowly dissolving under the intense light of our own awareness.
The great light of our own goodness shining from behind.
Believing that we will be blinded - slowly we turn away, directly into the sun.
Words, ideas, and images dissolving in the light of this truth.
Finally exhausted–we stop struggling.
A free being can only praise what cannot be described.
Every bit of the known--- relaxes in this wonderment of peace.