I am the man seated on the zafu in the early morning. Breathing, as a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings arises and falls away. Breathing, as a spaciousness unlike any other enfolds me.
Until there is no “me.”
Only Presence. Only the overwhelming Love that turns electrons around nuclei, and galaxies around the Universe’s center. Only that Love that “conquered the Great Divide.”
Breathing, and once again, a man seated on the zafu in the early morning.
But am I still that man?
twilight
becoming daylight
birdsongs
Punam hosts today’s Poetics over at dVerse, where we write about self.
The pub is open! Come join us!
Frank J. Tassone 
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