
We are released from our bindings.
Traces linked us,
drawing the plow through hardened soil.
The tangle of the great I am is cleared
and there is only vast mystery.
Fullness permeates.

We are released from our bindings.
Traces linked us,
drawing the plow through hardened soil.
The tangle of the great I am is cleared
and there is only vast mystery.
Fullness permeates.

It is gentled.
Wisdom comes as it makes affront
into soft openings.
It wants for nothing –
and I am freed of its clinging.