Meditation
In the eye of many whirlwinds
Stays a deep, dark pool,
Tranquil and translucent,
At the vortex of Being,
Forever fed by subtle springs
Which give mysterious birth to
Thoughts pure and lucid
In their easy distillation.
Time is sure to transport, but
Mortality's ride is muffled
In this sweet, serene suspension.
Copyright © Carol Mays | Year Posted 2015
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