As I sit with the morning,
I am moved by the ordinary.
The birds long awake now,
Gently singing,
And flitting about … 
without ruckus or commotion.
A swan, as if on cue,
Gliding silently through the water,
Also alone.
The shadows, 
So present,
So in keeping with their calling.
Masters of flexibility.
Sundials before sundials came to be.
The water, always moving.
A million points of sunlight.
Anchoring this space.
If water can anchor.

I find my breath.
And breath with the ripples.
The simplicity is right and good.
And my heart actually grows.
It feels oxymoranic 
That this Silence; Unpretentiousness; Aloneness 
Can breed this kind of depth.
In my inner being.
I come down from whatever plane of unconsciousness
Where I spend much of my time.
And I land in this moment.
No one is performing for anyone.
Or defending.
Or elevating.
The necessity of quiet and stillness?
It’s no secret.
I’m not sure why every time I do it,
I’m stunned by it’s transformative work.
That familar but kind invitation to repentance.
By the end of my minutes here,
I am new.
Though also destroyed for the thought of moving into the day,
and deeply in love
with right here.
Right now.

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