i watch the exodus of the fall leaves from the trees; crispy red, yellow, orange & brown against the cerulean sky. some leaves simply let go & drift slowly to the ground among the other fallen leaves. ah, but some leaves are teased from the silent trees by the busy hands of the wind & whirled on a great journey, as if on a pilgrimage to holy Mount Kailash. they spin in spirals, almost describing arcane esoteric glyphs of power & vision; up, up into the sky & onward beyond my ken.
i ponder on those soaring leaves, taken up through no intention of their own to sail through the deep mystery into the light. they appear to be no different from the other leaves that simply fall softly to the earth & lie there unnoticed. who can say that wind-surfing half the world away to Kailash is any more auspicious than quietly yielding to ones destiny without fanfare, & nobly enduring? in the end, Shiva holds us all to his breast like lost children come home to be cherished at last. in the end, when it all folds up again, we return to our innocence.
there were many times in my life when You came to me
& i did not recognize You, yet You reached deep down
into me & seized my attention, drawing me forth
through its sharp needle to pierce the moment & mark it
for remembrance forever in my heart's memory.
i trace the thread to its origin: it's You, always
You in varied form & stance all throughout this long life.
the more i search, the more robustly do you emerge
within my heart, dancing to the beat of its drumming.
please hold me in Your arms that i may honor Your call
for consummation without condition. I yield now.
i offer all freely, tenderly, ceaselessly.