Inside – A Poem

What is it that calls forth

embarrassed uncertainty

when inside we stretch  to

extend our narrow sense

of self?

A meditative leap into a state of maybe,

beaten back

into the spirit’s self constraint?

Which harbors pretense;

Wherein lies the danger?

The dream state, more permissive,

Offers refuge to those

Wandering familiars

Who beckon.

 

Nan                    Image Om Seti

About Nan Mykel

At 79, I was just about to stop keeping a journal, but that felt like accepting that growth was finished. I don't want to be finished, yet! I'm 80 now, and struggling to communicate with you, if you'll come and set awhile. P.S. My how time flies! I'm 82 now.
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