Ants navigate amongst mountainous pebbles
as I sit above them,
breathing.
True calm is fleeting.
When inner quietude emerges,
the spacious sea-waters of my being lie still.
However-so briefly,
every heard sound and every skin-skimming sensation
drop within
without a splash
and sink rapturously out of sight.
Where they go is a mystery.
I imagine it's where wind blows,
the same infinite space each
inhale and exhalation eternally die into
and endlessly rouse out of,
ever-changing with each renewal.
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