SHE JUMPS.

SHE JUMPS

There is no joke to the leap

might you be laughing.

There is no seriousness to the leap

might you be glib

Maybe it is the jump into

what seems void and empty

that stirs and provokes

~

Maybe what can’t be seen

or held, or appears to not be able

to be stashed, or carried

In the tunic, the sash,

the tight fitting pants,

Or that tattered pouch on a stick

slung aimlessly over the shoulder

holding nothing but stones

and poetry , a sprig of love

and a twig of fear, the sound of

Eternity’s enchantment whispering

~

Might these hold you to the limited belief

that what needs having to leap into Life

Is not had for such emptiness

So much unknown-ness,

So much riskiness

So much fool hardiness

into the boundless void.

~

Ah, for the little dog called Loyal

Faithful innocence of joy and the moment

Instinctual knowing in the

Wisdom of Love unconditional

~

And she listen to the talisman pouch

as it whispers the certainty of what is unseen

in the infinite beyond.

It gives call to the Alchemical

process of the impossible mixed with the

improbable.

~

She Jumps