Listening to the first awareness of morning
I sense the kind of clarity elusive
at other times of day.
She is still, a singular breath, formless,
offering insight into the endlessness
of something pure.
Yet she moves away as thoughts come:
those dissenting armies that tramp in
to involve me in the containment of opposites.
She will not be held in place by argument.
I long for her when she leaves.
She has opened up a space in me
And I’ve glimpsed a purpose.
My intention is to attend to her throughout the day.
To be the gardener who loves the flower.
That she might touch me when she will
That she mind find me, often
In the gentleness of contemplation.

Martin Challis © 2009