There is no trick.
There is no scheme afoot.
No stutter in the turn of the earth,
Bent on your imbalance.
The answer to all of it is still
Right there inside of you,
Steady as it has always been.
You knew it earlier on.
You knew to let the winter wind kiss your cheeks.
It was natural, an easy tilt to marvel at perfect flakes,
And to twist to examine the footprints that confirmed you.
A smooth, tender part of it all, you
Processed the beauty of the world and
Looped it back; your very heart wired in to the
Thrumming pulse at the centre;
It kept you safe,
It kept you lithe,
It kept you deep in the adventure.
But now, for some reason, you think it strange,
'Not for you ... when nothing could be
Further from the truth.
Remember your wiring. It's still there.
The thrumming hasn't changed;
'Never, ever weakened,
All this time waiting for you to come back.
Just shed your bark.
Relax your shoulders so your ribcage can move.
Soften ... and your heart will dovetail right back into it;
Match up with the pulse as if it never missed a beat.
And it will flood you.
It will flood you with wave upon wave of the
Love that is right here for you; never ending.
And you will realize that your place in all of this is still,
Deep in the adventure ...
As it is for all of us.
The others? Those that have pushed you to
Cracking with trouble and bluff?
You can't wire for them. You can't.
They wont' let you.
That's how this works ...
But in tending to yourself;
There is a chance, if they get close enough;
Curious of your bliss, they'll get
Washed, drenched in your waves,
And wire in without even knowing it.
... no extra effort.