pond

Being, feeling, is a delight.

What lies underneath the undelightful layers

is a pond, quiet.

A trust. Permeating.

Each touch and shape and memory.

Watchful. Present. Unneeding.

Each speck of sensation a gift. A color.

to garnish our banquet of Is.

The floating layers above

of wants, pains, reactions,

the undigested remnants of our experience.

Have not yet been allowed into the pond.

For fear of pollution, perhaps.

To protect from pain.

Let them in. Watch them sink. Feel their shape.

The undelight can be moved.

The undelight can be digested.

Watch. Freel. That is digestion.

And clearer waters remain.