I Am

I am not the painting, but the blank canvas;
The bright, blue sky; joyous and clear.
Here, ready, a delighted host
To all that is and all that might become.

Where do I start and end?

What a funny question,

For I clearly have no edges.

Within me, anything might appear,

Here... a coffee flask, a tree, a deer!
And I meld with each expression,

With no concept of separation,

For all that dances within me, this consciousness, this view,

Is me too.

I do not know much

But I do know that

I meet myself and joy and love

When nothing is resisted,

And nothing is awry.

Words can only point to how it is

To exist like this;

As the canvas, as the sky.
So, let us stop engaging with word

And be what we are,
Free of divide.