Where is the edge.

Of the Isness.

Of This Moment?

Did anyone ever.

Tell The Wind how to blow?

Tell The Sun how to shine?

Tell The Grass how to grow?

Who grows the grass?

The stream.

Doesn’t hurry.

Doesn’t stress.

Doesn’t have to decide.

Which direction to flow.

Its destination was known.

From the very beginning.

And one day.

It is sure to arrive.

You are.

Summer Sun.

You are.

Autumn Wind.

You are.

Winter Snow.

You are.

Spring Rain.

You are.

Quiet mind.

Noisy mind.

Mind.

Life.

What Is.

In all of its wonderful and terrible.

What Isness.

You are like that first ray of sunlight.

You are like the stars piercing the night sky.

You are like The Moon rising above the desert.

You are like the wind through the old trees.

Of the ancient forest.

You are so loved.

Loved beyond your wildest imagination.

You are.

Just stay in bed.

For a few more minutes.

And wait for the next impulse.

The next urge.

Where did it come from?

Who made it happen?

How did it happen?

I called God’s name.

And there was Silence.

I called it again.

And the entire Universe answered.

There’s no me.

And there’s no you.

There’s only Life happening.

So take my hand.

I’ll pull you close.

And let’s dance.