A Place to Come Home To

It is good
to take our edges out -

far from the middle
of who we are

far from our core.

To go out among
the rarely seen desert flowers -

the ones that bloom on a whim.
after a not-so-usual
wet season.

To stand before
the endless gorges that
open us up
to great chasms
within -

mute as fish -

staring into the deep.

To hold our heads back
until we are weak -
staring at the blackness
laced with specks of light
from other peoples' worlds,
from other peoples'
stars and suns.

It is good to get
out of our center
and mingle ourselves
with the particles of grandeur
everywhere
suspended in creation...

sustained by beauty and awe.

To wander
in the far places
our routine would fail to
take us;
our rhythm would seek
to conceal.

To set out on
journeys that seem imagined
and beyond the reach and
outline
of our shadowed days and walking.

To fly through canyons of light
that we cannot see from
our table,
from our hearth.

The self is not a trap.

It is a place to hold our being
when we are not on adventure.
It is a bench by the fire
to warm ourselves.  It
is a shade from the heat
of the noonday sun.

Take nothing for the journey;
only, hold all you discovery

in your chest -

until it blooms.