The grande Oaks - blades of grass - soil shriveled and empty of moisture.
Waiting patiently without emotion, a day when the sky opened.
Teardrops from the heavens quenching the earth’s thirst.
Everything opening - so it can fully be its aliveness.

One moment longing, another moment filled to the brim.
Soil, trees, beyond enough so it races downhill.
Pulling all loose things down towards the mouth of the universal ocean.
Low spots filled - the veins of the earth rushing down toward its own merging.

A good day to see that nothing holds on; not for the minutest of time.
Awake, to every sense door–finding no home in them.
Heart sinks, as all contaminated states shake us.
Our core finds no rest in this transient world flowing by.

This attempt at finding ground; a solid me to hang my hat on.
Was this just a trick–finding this inflated or maybe deflated Mirage?
Again, floating downstream–no winning or losing here.
Just a heart bent towards ease; freedom close at hand.