The Least I Know

The things I know,

Well, that's a short list.

And what I don't

Includes how to word this.

There's a flowing kind of peace

I find in meditation.

A weightless kind of soul thing

Pushing exultation.

There's fullness in the empty,

In the act of letting go,

A free fall of indifference

That drops me in the flow.

And you are the horizon,

The rising up of dawn,

The something unexpected

I'm never counting on.

I slough off all the worry,

The wants and needs and "must",

I let it fall into the wind

And see it carried off.

Yet when I am alone,

Have loosed the albatross,

Am stripped of all collections

And skimmed off all the dross,

When every last addition,

Subtracted, falls away,

In sky and earth of only soul

I feel you still the same.