Veer into two
As the green print that patterns
The dark bursting bark
Is who the moss is really.
Round and round
The circle
Dust of unbecoming
Kicked up
Then the brisk reverse
Being made to be still
By the spiral
And the blue rope
And the gentle
Tsk Tsk notes.
Neck nodding,
Tail raising,
Hooves stomping,
Free in the moments of restriction,
Constantly restricted when free.
Elmer pecks at
The feed bag.
Brio needs to blend the taste
Of carrots with
His grain.
There are many wise ones
Who say it's just who you are
That turns spirit into material
But seekers always want the secret code;
Which horse to bet on in the race
When full surrender to who you are
Is what is required,
To let the smallness of you settle
And the largeness of you grow
Til you are not even yourself anymore
But a frequency
Of, say,
Winning the lottery,
What you said you did
When you met me.
