Flustered
How can I share this beauty that runs ahead of me.
The me, that is apt to the sidelines and feels the discomfort
of any kind of stage.
It’s when the personal is on it.
The way a person
Me
the person
senses the eyes.
In that I have to stand for something
But I am mist
I am see through
Its chaotic, swirling winds
rise like torrents.
Thoughts –
feelings calm in the center
And everything swirling where it matters
Now.
Imagine , me in the wings , feeding myself the lines…
showering me in grace of ease –
the exchange as natural as speaking to my dog
or the birds that gather on my terrace.
I have created the great show by tossing seeds and bread.
No-one…
Not one bird would come without me setting the stage.
The Circle is the stage I’ve created and it will be a living entity.
I am off to the sides
breathing into it.
It needs only what it already is.
My breath and the seeds.