For those who will listen, he will tell his tale.

The one who would swim amongst the ice floes
stands on the shore in his nakedness.
He has practised many years, his mind is clear.
He sees the power not the cold.
He prepares himself, and enters silently, with intensity.
He is swimming, he is swimming with the ice floes.

You who would enter the depths of your being,
are also required to stand naked at the edge.
You build up tolerance to the power of the depths
through many years of disciplined practice.
You enter the intensity again and again,
going deeper, staying longer.
You gradually divest yourself of your habitual layers.
There is no protection that does not get in the way.

He is swimming, he is swimming with the ice floes.
His skin and being are buzzing.
He is enraptured with the beauty of the ice.
He does what few have done, he sees what few have seen.
He swims back to shore, and emerges.
For those who will listen, he will tell his tale.

This entry was posted in may - july 11 collection, poems on meditation. Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.