A piece I wrote in the 1990s that is rather appropriate for me these days.
I am adrift …
not lost, not driven,
floating for the first time
and trusting completely
the river’s wisdom.
My spirit releases a life
spent swimming hard
with or against current.
In this gliding
I do not hope for a calm, cool pond
or fear the rush of rocks;
I am adrift …
I ride the surface,
not confident or concerned,
suspended weightless in the present moment.
I cannot be lost
for I am not searching
and all the shores
delivered by breeze or storm
just so wonderful
in rage or peace,
beautiful,
in a way that drifting,
alone,
can only allow.
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