The Small Crack

Before the flame ignites the world.

Sitting close to the breath.
A voice hesitant and trembling a little.
Is there a choice here or is it just habit?
Bamboozled, by a world turning too fast.

It's such a small movement, how life’s
marvels lead to this moment's hesitations.
How easily our wings could catch fire
Or help us soar above this meditation hall.

Oh yes! A small crack revealed, rising and floating
In the mist of my own mind.
Can't you tell the difference –Sir- between?
Being pulled into or being pushed away?

Oh my! This slight stumble – caught again,
Entranced, by this cycle of becoming.
Weeds floating on the surface.
Knowing somehow the weeds keep reproducing themselves.

This is about insight.
Courageously- studying the laws of grasping.
Befriending the truth of dependent origination.
Knowing some days I wish I didn't or couldn’t know.

Yet readiness for quiet brings me down to my knees.
A moment where I don't choose liking or disliking
But sit in the center of longing without movement.
The sky slowly begins to open.

Recognizing that resting in that crack between worlds.
Brings the blessings of an adult mind
And the heart of the child, held with ease.

Freeing oneself; this bright mind illuminates this impermanent world.