I don’t know you anymore,
and it is so refreshing.
Now that I see your impermanence,
you are impossible to know.
It was a silly and burdensome charade,
adding lines and labels
to forms that refuse to be controlled
You are not silly anymore. If anything,
you are sacred.
Not sacred like a temple, or even
a vessel of God.
Your sacredness is so much simpler,
so much closer to the ground.
You are leaves, scampering across
a verdant plane.
You are breath, coming and going,
without notice or ado.
You are a sheet on the clothesline
summer zephyrs billow through.
You are not formless,
but have no form.
New in every moment,
you can never be known.
And it is so refreshing.