in the beginning, the words flow like water
someone’s left the tap on
i become aware – the water is running
the flow begins to slow
enamored by the words
the shapes of the letters
the colors of the sounds
noticing space between words
i am drawn back into myself
the space in which all these words appear
and when the last syllable disappears
there is ….
This post is from a collection of essays, stories, insights and poems that have occurred to me along the Way titled From Lemurs to Lamas: Confessions of a Bodhisattva.