He lingers on the Moon
and the pale light of Arcturus
as the valley heat passes over.
After years of avid collecting,
he fixes his inner eye on release
in the supple manner of trees.
Going down the mountain
the desire to climb dissolves;
he notices the shape of streams,
the color of rocks and sounds of descent.
He defied gravity for many years
yet now he’s tumbled smooth
by a voice that calls to him
from deep within the earth,
and like water in its course,
his answer is in letting go.
Reading of “Tumbled Smooth” with music by Boccherini.
Parenthetical observation: I was camping out under the full moon when you wrote this. It perfectly mirrors the over-arching theme of my meditations.