Purpose Arrives on Small Feet
a poem / on what was missed — seems obvious now
collecting magic pebbles and shiny stones waves cast upon shores of beaches — treasures of youth.
life has been blessed, gifts gathered while barefooted. pads of skin against sands of beaches — gifts of light projected through illusions of the dark
twirling on a carousel in front of the central sun. light immerses all, is all — connect the dots illusion is a puzzle from the outside seeking insides already
self-evident. in hindsight, ah hindsight, if only little i could remember all the futures cast about and put the pieces together for purpose makes.
once all the pieces join they dissolve and little i gets immersed in light and finally becomes the bearable lightness of being.
I was thinking. Okay, more like musing on all these spiritual epiphanies with the drudgeries of the mundane in between. The work. The work I do without expectation — spiritually oriented work. It teaches me by osmosis, this work. Punctuation points the way with blossoms of light.
Do they connect together? Or is it the Light at the End of the Tunnel? A light that permeates all of me — body, heart, mind, and soul. A light to frolic in and a light I be?
Is it murky or is it clear as the vagaries of sleep deprivation bite at my heels.




