Never Wrong

You are never wrong, my dear.
It is your thoughts that are mistaken.
I am never wrong.
It is my thoughts that are mistaken.
When we stop believing in our thoughts,
then we can sing.
Sometimes on Winter nights
we curl into our feral selves and
purr like barn cats.
This is the purr that creates the world.
And on warm afternoons
we have a picnic out there in that meadow
with Rumi, beyond right and wrong.
Tasting the fountain of clear sweet water
within us, we take no wine.
But that is a lie.
Our eyes are cups of wine,
so tipsy we become the path we follow,
answering all our questions
before they arise
just by pressing our bare feet
into cold morning dew.
We begin
with this breath.

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