Fumble

I am my own all and nothing

Sensations of the body brain crowd in

What of these am I and not

A new mix of All That Is

Dawning like any other new dawn

But a measuring stick was left

By an unexpected guest

And unconsciously I pick it up

Fumble, aim to use it until I see

What it is, grasped in hand

 

Walking backwards sizing things up

I trip over the empty footsteps

That were never there

And that is when

Everything relaxes back

Into simply What Is

 

2 thoughts on “Fumble

Please add your comment, thoughts, or reflections. Would you like to? Thanks! --Janice

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