There is something exquisitely okay
about the story appearing now.
The yes to what is,
is so powerful and so solid,
is drowned in its own source.
A heart might be burning with perceived harm,
a head might be dreaming of devils and angels,
and all the while, the center doesn't move.
There is no flinching at flinching.
There can't even be a sliver of a crack in what we are.
Separation is the muse of the inseparable.
Even resistance is unresisted.
Inside what appears to be a no!
is the supreme YES,
always being and allowing,
a soft caress in a hurricane.
Nothing can be rejected anymore,
not even rejection.
The appearance of a "me" is not a problem.
It never was.
How could a phantom cause any harm?
There is only delight, loving-to-be.
Tears of joy
and of pain,
the shivering of fear
all hold the same revered status.
Immense gratitude arising for the story,
which is simply Being, story-ing.
There has been no gift given,
to be thankful for..
we could say that THIS is one
Love loving Love loving Love loving Love loving Love loving Love loving