One Morning Under the Tree (Poem)

Image by AvocetGEO from Pixabay

The spiritual popping
electrocuted the
armies of thoughts.
The Nirvana states
have put down
the high noon’s
The yowling pain
of awkward nights
and itchy mornings
dissipated away in one sitting.
The subscriptions to life
flushed away,
not with newtons of force
or joules of energy
but through
effortless efforts.
The silence demanded
the Hiroshima or Nagasaki bombs
to incinerate the mental moths
the silence.
The light of awareness
searched the netherworld
like a bomb squad
with non-judgemental
not leaving even the swamps
and the muddier marshlands.
Seeing all this,
the bottled temptations
could not show their faces
to the mystic
who was flying in divine whirls
of here and now.

-From Settled Stillness.

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