What is it this weight
that walks around with me
this heaviness and deep sighing like feet caught in mud,
like a body of treacle trapped in a tin.
what is it
this perceived problem
this anxiety
this state?
And why is it that it will be better
when I sleep deeply
or when the sun shines
or next month
or when I camp beside a surging ocean
or when a lover whispers sweet words to me?
what dependency have I cultivated
to desire peace from a place of uncertainty
to desire truth from denial
to desire a future different from the past present moment?
What stress am I suffering between the layers of cell tissue and organ
when I scheme urge cajole fret court and canvas
options solutions and promises
to dramas solely enacted in my own mind?
How deep is this well that I have dug for my self
how high is this mountain that I cannot climb
and how low is this mind that plots ???
can it just Be?
can it be released riven free from self grasp
and encouraged to flutter
to fly
to transform???