Morning Meds 1 4 22
In meditation I followed a white Salmon through dark Sea of Consciousness,
my formless essence swirling in the current of its wake.
It’s ability to return to its point of origin mirrored by my own.
Moving through the buoyancy of salt, into the turbulence of fresh,
the waters of time imagined, swept by.
Fears of feeding bears
were replaced by the memories of agreed upon fates.
A knowing that energy released
is destined to be shared again and
is nothing but a continuance of the existence of One.
In clouds of lives expired,
recombined in still pools.
Eggs welcome sperm,
minnows grow to shed their membranes,
life flows back into the dark Sea of Consciousness.
We are eternal,
our forms but transitory expressions of creative thought.
Our belief in a point of origin a dilution.
We always are and have always been.
Our imagined point of origin is only a moment of memory,
a remembrance of shifting into a new imagined form.