By Morris Dean
I take the day off. Or most of it.
I sit still in a chair facing the window and observe what's happening in front of my mind. There is some component of "mine" in this awareness, but what of it is mine? I'm just looking, not forcing, not trying to guide.
Birds alight and feed. Leaves of the maple shudder in the wind...the invisible wind.
Colored patterns or remembered images flit across the mouth of a cave. I don't bring them up. I don't force them. They flow. I flow. What am I?
| Copyright © 2015 by Morris Dean |
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