relax into the chatter receive the chatter as all there is notice, notice the pattern the constant pointing directing the flow toward ancient stories relics of another time petrified wood be bold be brave be holy relax— receive the flow of thought as a tool of Divine Intention pointing home (pointing to signposts and fireworks glitzy displays so sparkly and bold the crows are pecking at them) meanwhile, you have forgotten the nest the granary of Love that exists here, Now forgotten, but never forsaken— simply hidden behind the chatter that masks the Truth inviting us to look past into the noise into the chaos watching the moving parts— the scene change
What stayed with me is how the poem doesn’t try to silence the chatter, but slowly moves through it toward something that remains unmoving beneath it all. The “granary of Love” and the subterranean rock feel less like concepts and more like something genuinely perceived beneath the movement of thought. And the crow flying off, revealing the steady branch, is such a simple but deeply alive image. It feels like the poem remembers that what is truly steady never needs to force itself forward.
What stayed with me is how the poem doesn’t try to silence the chatter, but slowly moves through it toward something that remains unmoving beneath it all. The “granary of Love” and the subterranean rock feel less like concepts and more like something genuinely perceived beneath the movement of thought. And the crow flying off, revealing the steady branch, is such a simple but deeply alive image. It feels like the poem remembers that what is truly steady never needs to force itself forward.
A true receiving. You have felt this resting place, that is not a place, it seems. Thank you friend. Thank you for your words and your presence.