As life passes by,
Like old leaves
Falling away,
People come and leave.
I find my own path,
Not echoing the songs of many.
I come face to face
With old residue
bubbling to the surface.
At times, it becomes cloudy.
At times, it rains.
At times, It is held
In a motherly embrace.
I sit before anything arises
Lovingly, I wait…I see.
What comes up,
What merges back.
Then I turn,
to the one who sees.
I’m here alone,
But I am not lonely,
I am held.
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