I go traveling out into the big, people-world—
my expanded earth-self—
hear accents and languages,
feel ways of perceiving that produce sounds and patterns.
The patterns come into me and change me
and I see my old limits and my possibilities,
odd combinations of rhythms that can shift me radically
to paths I didn't know I could travel
to more facets of the love-jewel
and it is so rich
and I don't ever know who I am, really.
Some days the variety of voices makes me crazy;
I can't absorb it all,
in the fragmentation there is no rest.
Exhausted, I am ready to die
into the peace of the One.
And yet in this very moment, under it, IS the One,
silence under form,
peace at the center of aliveness.
Now, my plane waits to lift into the sky—
the big, no-people-world—
the other side of my busy self.
I wait for the transition:
slow earth to speeding space
daily babble to silent clouds
I love the shift
at the end of each phase
of the wave
Copyright by Penney Peirce 2012