Deed

 

Look, I am doing

     a good deed.

I am smiling for no reason.

     I am doing a good deed.

I am slowing eternity down

     with my heartbeat,

recycling the glittering trash

     of a hundred million suns

with this breath.

     My rib cage opens its door

to release a wingéd messenger.

     With ineffable softness 

the Ham'sa swan settles 

     on black waters, whispering 

"God I Am"

     and waves of stillness

caress your belly.

     In February mist you hear  

the soundless golden 

     laughter of forsythia.

The smile I send forth 

     weaves a nest in your pelvis

where tremors of laughter hatch

     from eggs of yearning.

What is the secret of 

     manifestation? 

Bask in the Unmanifest.

     Look, I am doing 

no thing, I am drowning  

     in the ocean of no effort, 

no intention.

     I do not proclaim the Word,

"Let there be light!"  

     Yet I create a new earth.

Reposing in darkness,

     I rest between the stars.

Place two fingers on

     my jugular vein:

I am the trough

     between pulses.

I am the body of silence.

     I breathe space into the womb.

Image: James Webb Telescope, Hand of Creation