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The Practice

For years, I was not ready to don love’s wings.
Too much dense chaff there was to burn away.

I acquiesced that a solo journey in this life it might be.
Yet advocating intimacy, the Universe was unrelenting.

In time, clarity and honesty were forged trustworthy.
So I laid bare myself to One.

And now, I cherish an opportunity to build a relationship long sought.
But how do we soar while separated corporeally?

A reminder echoes from the inner sanctum, “Be patient, my son.”
A reminder born out of commitment to show up for life.
A reminder to be here now.

Confusion and pain—journey partners too well known—stir in this medley.
Feeling torn apart, I strain for answers.

A whisper brushes softly through me, “Come back to centre, my son.”
A whisper that salves the aches and longings.
A whisper to calm the anguish.

It is no substitute for tender touch and conscious conversation.
But I trust, grounding myself in gratitude and possibility.

“Return to Practice.”
Always, the practice of presence.

✌️ ∙ 🌱 ∙ 🙏