Letting Go…

Old worn out broken leather boots.

I have walked a long way in these boots so worn, and yet they never seem to wear out–the story held in the soles, in the laces tied a hundred thousand times. My story. At the next bend in the road, I will stop and take them off. Yes, the next bend. The story as it turns out, is woven from illusion; evaporates like mist in the ferocious heat of the sun. In the blinding light of mid-day I see clearly as everything else dissolves. There is only endless pause and accompanying stillness.

………..

 

The sky is clear,

clear without even the hint

of a cloud.

Yet still,

it is the sky.