Don't Think About Me!

Don't think about me, my Friend!

Then you will only
come to know
your own thoughts

Those dry and brittle bones
picked over by crows
you found somewhere
and kept too long

They make the inside of your head
Too noisy!

Don't think about me,
My Friend.

Come down, instead
to this dancing river
where eternally
I sit.

Join me on this speckled rock
webbed with moss
graced with a
warming sunlight

We will talk,
and listen ...
And when our talking slows
and dissolves into
Listening
And when our listening slows
and disappears into
This Space ...

You will know me!
And I will know you!

Beneath, behind, beyond
the many forms
our Truth takes,
We will discover
True Love

And the world will improve
All by itself.

These pomes were written at the edge of Fallen Leaf Lake, in retreat with Gangaji and many beautiful others. Endless Gratitude to All.