As when the mind
is shaded only with sorrow;
and rinsed of colour. on a dim, lightless day.
And the trees branches outside the window
are flat and stark, and grey on grey.
Now, suddenly, on this new day’s afternoon,
the branches glow, twine sinuously,
are gilded with amber and golden sun.
And after the night’s wild winds,
stir gently on a parchment, pale blue sky.
And all the twigs and tendrils are like a
heavenly letter written by angel hands.
So too, the mind dissolves into this bright nothingness.
Into the simplicity of simply feeling, sensing, seeing.
© Ingrid Andrew <> HeartsSong