The Gift of Not Finding
Place your mind softly as silk
curtains in the stillness of space.
Let mind’s whisper fade like sunset,
subtle traces intimate with sky.
Space invariably filling, forming,
emptying–unchanged like mirror,
ephemeral home to passersby.
Stillness undisturbed by movement.
Experiencer just another experience.
Where is the one who knows this?
Where is the one who cannot be found?
Ron