Seven

The mind at ease
But not at rest
Curled and twitching
Like a dreaming tiger
Reliving a hundred glorious hunts
Desiring another

The soul born free
From labor
Like wind over a field
Look down on your unceasing race
And see your wake
In the bending grains
Of tomorrow’s work

The fibers of muscles
Filled with memory
Of yesterday’s stretching,
Straining,
Sustaining,
Sore,
Satisfied…
Still.

Peace, be love in stillness.
Hush the fury with rest,
And learn the secrets
Of the Great One
Who told everything to happen
From nothing
And then on the seventh day
Whispered to His creation

“You are good.”

And rested.

Categories: Poetry

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