She was down by the river again that morning
after a long contemplation,
Gazing at her own reflection,
Distorted by the ripples but
then again.
Has she ever known herself whole?
Perhaps, because
that's what we all are,
So she's been told.
So we've been told.
You see, she's tired of empty promises
and unconvincing lies,
Coming to her through her 14 inch screen
and from between pages of sold out books,
by sell-out crooks,
Out for a quick buck or two,
or two million.
Dangling carrots or kale or whatever it is that is trendy
in the vegan's recipe books
this season.
To the sick and destitute and needy
looking for a way out, a quick fix or a relief,
from pain or suffering or poverty.
Or to the hopeless romantics
longing for that fairy-tale matrimony,
And the high-achievers,
hungry for power, fame and glory,
chasing after followers, fancy cars and big money.
Selling concepts like abundance and wholeness
non-resistance and surrender, and
"Everything is vibration, if you vibrate high enough
you'll have everyone of your heart's desire."
Oh no, these days she only trusts the river.
Well, the clouds too, and the wind and the trees
for that matter.
But most of all, she trusts the silence of her teacher,
With the dwelling place within her
and without her.
She listens to the music in between the words of two lovers,
and in the empty spaces of the scriptures.
She gets her wisdom from the silence of the wise masters,
and in the unperceivable smile of the elders,
She learns grace from the stillness of a dying mother,
Gratitude from the beggar who has found the night's shelter
And acceptance from the unadorned wild flowers.
But most of all, she surrenders to the flow of the rivers.
Oh yes, these days she only trusts the rivers,
Ready and willing for them to take her.
Down to the ocean into the arms of her Lover.
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