I cling.
Accusing myself as I do to things dried up
but the question remains
to what and how has drying occurred?
The day I turned around and saw over my shoulder
myself sabotaging the very thing I’d given life so preciously to
that day that day
opened my eyes to how this clinging is meant to be done.
There is no longer anything to pride myself in says Merton.
The ego can sit and enjoy the view, retire, by the window there, just ajar.
I will go on, questioning myself, taking my whole life very seriously. Yet, only to draw out what has been there since the first light~