A poem about sunsets, emergence and how the end of the day is the perfect time to let go.
Do you understand how powerful
A gentle sunset can be?
Do you ever feel the magical force
This golden, maroon-wash
Is an is-ness that calls forth no strategy.
It settles for its own soft delight;
And, without an act,
Lays down its challenge to you,
To finally find your gentle self;
The self that moves the cliff-face
Without so much as a glancing touch.
It whispers: “Drop your patterning.
Enjoy the emergent happening.”