what is it this weight

 

 

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???