When I Find Myself in the Quiet
Poetry
Tasks of life, I do.
Extremely fine, I am.
But the moment I find myself in the quiet —
I know what I truly feel.
The quiet is from what I run.
The quiet makes me think,
Makes me aware of what I truly feel,
Makes me see the bare truth.
The bare truth is unconditional love:
Where there is no right, there is no wrong —
Mere existence of everything,
Happening of events,
Actions, and reactions to those actions,
Across time and dimensions.
The quiet shows me beyond the bode —
Where there is no parent, friend, or colleague,
Just another speck of light
Made from the same cloth,
Going about the 3D world,
Doing its tasks of life,
Finding its quiet,
Running away from its quiet.
The awareness makes me relook at the tasks of life —
Where there are no pockets to fill,
Just another birth to complete,
The laundry list of life.
The quiet takes me away from all things not.
The quiet brings me closer to for that I was born.
The quiet is scary,
But the quiet is the only truth.
