Zion National Park
The coyotes cry under the sickled moonlight,
stars and space so far away,
yet their presence sits deep within.
No place to be, no where to go.
Waking up just to choose the temptations and folly,
the fantasy, reality and all the grey between.
The image I paint is mine to hold, no one has any control.
A conundrum of who's in charge-
free will and a blank slate
or a game of give and take?
The river flows beneath my feet as I sit and stare at piles of eroded stone-
this landscape didn't form over night.
Years of transition, of weathered storms
and wind that carried change.
Yet, the rock never questioned 'why me?'
Often this life is split in two-
yes & no
me & you
coming & going
yours or mine?
past and future
here and there.
A division of experience.
A fraction of reality.
A fragment of imagination.
The definition of duality.
The more we compare and collect,
divide and dissect,
the further from Truth we crawl.
There are no answers, only experience.
An experience found with feet firmly planted on the ground.
Outside, within - two in the same.
A single cell apart of whole.
No good, no bad, nor indifferent.
Just a silent understanding,
an awareness, appreciation and acceptance
of the All
and will become.