Where I Always Was

I thought I’d gone somewhere far from myself,

Like a book mislaid on a high, dusty shelf.

I searched in the corners of thought and of name,

Believing the journey and I were the same.



The mind kept its chatter, the heart kept its pace,

Clouds crossed the sky of my inner space.

Some days were shadows, some mornings were sun,

Each one more convincing that something was done.



But standing quite shaken in the middle of air,

I noticed how little had moved anywhere.

The wind touched the leaves and then carried on,

Yet nothing was missing when it was all gone.



So now I let things arrive and I let them depart,

Like seasons that pass,

A winter garden’s fresh start.



I stayed as that garden beneath the cold light,

Like pages read carefully through a long, patient night.

Nothing erased, nothing set aside,

Just waiting its turn from the chapters behind.



The soil kept its knowing, the book held its truth,

Each word still intact in the fractures of its youth.

The dark was not ending, the stillness not wrong,

Only the place where the roots gather strong.



Then light came back slowly, as light always does,

Not asking for reason or needing because.

It leaned on the ground and I felt it again,

Like breath finding lungs after holding it in.



A shift lifted the veil, it all came into view

Black and white now color, a moment so true.

A sunflower yearning, not trying to chase,

Just meeting the warmth as it rose into place.



Petal by petal, I learned how to stay

Both open to light and unchanged by the day.

And as all the blooming completed its part,

Something grew much wider than garden or heart.



The shape of me softened, then gently withdrew,

Until what remained was the seeing it knew.

No edge, no center, no need to decide,

Just awareness at rest transforming beyond sky.



Now like the quiet that holds both night and dawn,

A steady star shining before thought comes along.

Not distant, not higher, not meant to persuade,

Just present as light in the space where it’s laid.



And there where I thought I was lost to a shelf,

I found every page still belonged to itself.

No grand revelation, more so a thunderous pause

Just a quiet returning to where I always was.

Spoken word ambient beautiful