Resting in the arms of being,
I taste the joy and smell the peace
Which comes to those whose nature’s seeing
And souls are wrapped in downy fleece.

Although I know it’s out of fashion
(What’s fashion but a step in time?),
I meet the world with deep compassion
And speak of that which is sublime.

And, when my mind resorts to measures
Designed to stop my urge to laugh,
I smile the smile of one who treasures
The chance to ask, “On whose behalf?”

It isn’t that the mind’s unruly;
I just don’t notice it unduly.

Photo by Evie S. on Unsplash

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