My path has ever rolled like an avalanche along; in precious, raw, rough parallels, our movements met and, for a moment, harmonized.
A moment’s harmony is not a song, but the moment of harmony creates possibility in all who experience it.
My wobbling trajectory, with all its graceless noise, was steadied, albeit a transient state, only fleetingly.
I wanted to find the loop, the regenerative feedback, and sought it with panicked, shaky hands.
I did not understand that my own trembling shifts created the disharmony.
I did not understand that what I saw as devotion and loyalty could be seen as anything other.
I did not understand that my tenacity brought terror… until I did.
Then, there was only anger and shame in me, of me… unable.
The harmony I knew in that moment: a Pure Seed.
I know this because it grew in the scorched earth I called home.
Even in this, my enfolded, entwined, entangled, emergent solitude.
I struggled; the light of that moment, passing and fading like tail lights.
Many miles and memories now passed and past, in the distance and silence and the ever-burgeoning fullness of time, on some gray, quiet days, still, I remember.
Mudita, bodhicitta, samaya, sealed, sealed, sealed.
In this white wave, in this silence, I believe.
White shores beckon freedom; sand between my toes, I breathe and know the only truth: I know nothing.
But I believe in you. Still do. With all my diamond heart.