The Seed of Recognition

What If
We are creating all this

As If
We’re the protagonist of a dream
in a script we’re still writing

And
Each character
Each thing
Each situation
Which arises within
Each moment

Is there
Because that’s just
where it needs to be
Precisely placed
Perfectly orchestrated
Timed and positioned

For
coincidents aren’t part of this script

There’s only this breath
And the countless shooting stars
It carries

A jolt

Suddenly
waking up
Like a flash of lightning
In a Texas thunderstorm
Washed up
along endless open fields
Of dancing daisies
playing hide and seek
in the wind’s
soft kisses

And like a new-born’s first contact
with outside air
We breath in
Feeling our chest expand
Till we fill our entire Being
With each one of those shooting stars

And looking down at our hand
Slowly opening up a fist
That had become calcified shut
After countless lives spent
tensely clenching
A suitcase filled with
Ideas which are not our own
Ideas that have enslaved and imprisoned us
Ideas that have created endless suffering
Yet still
we cling tightly
As if our life depends

But
What if
The experience of Life
The fullness, the rich robustness of Life
Depends on
letting go

Now
Finally
We can rest
We can let go
We can breath free

And as we look down again at our hand
We discover a seed
Sitting in an outstretched palm
Pristine
Pure
Potential

And we observe
Within this seed
an image of our self
for all that we have been
for all that we are and
for all that we can become