When you become like the wind and the rock, the rock misses the wind when it ceases to blow, and hangs on the breath of every zephyr, waiting for news.
January has to run to catch up,
flying past resolutions
into cold mornings unornamented.
Silent center, stillness reigns, dust motes drifting in candlelight.
Quiet mind, slow heart beating, world at rest one single night.
Time in between things, waiting, watching, listen now for wisdom’s sight.
Stillness, quiet, silent nothing, silent silence now tonite.