Interface

Clouds passing, just as thoughts in ones mind, arising and descending...seeking harbor where they are not welcome. Yet, there is no banning, no command against their coming, save a simple gazing, grazing humbly serene...between two ends of nothing.

There in this, the balance of a space I am, though 'eye' only...watching. Nor 'self' of any kind occluding anything. No judgement, nor cause, nor court...no cost. No drama to degauss, only 'being there' perfectly still...invisibly aside of interest.

My way.

Namaste.


Written by Bruce James Clyde, at Deming, New Mexico

 Art: Galaxy Meditation, google pic