The Rememberings

I’m thinking of what is to be,
Among this quiet energy.

In this wood I may survive.
This wood, it moves, it is alive.

There is a purpose in its flow.
If I went with, where would I go?

Deny the fear, deny upset,
With the calm, with the ‘just let.’

I can resist and it feels good,
But feeling good’s misunderstood.

Feeling good no sooner fades,
As the truth again pervades.

What is this truth? Do I dare ask?
Is finding ye my greatest task?

Is it the wind, is it the rain,
Is it the sun and warmth the same?

It is that which will go on,
After my feelings are long gone?

Feelings are leaves one and many,
Forest not, not one, not any.

In truth the forest is the flow.
It is how a leaf will go.

Upon a tree, upon the floor,
A useful piece of something more.

After the feeling’s come and gone,
It is the forest that goes on.

The forest is collaboration.
Many leaves’ organization.

It is much bigger than a feeling.
It is the truth and its revealing.

I am a forest, I’m many leaves.
I am a mind that conceives.

All the leaves coming and going.
Ruled by mind, ruled by knowing.

This is a truth that I have found,
Walking through this leafy ground.