The restless

frantic age of

human going and coming,

with all its

dreams of tomorrow

and its plans

that etch

their flowing

wiry patterns

onto consciousness,

are brought

to nil

in the still place

of just being


as body in space.


It is a place


in the refuge of

silent connection;

it is entered

through the repose

of waiting to hear

the risings

and the fallings

that were

ever drowned out

in the busy

cavalcade of living.