Beckoning

Each inhalation
an invitation,
each exhale
a letting go.

In the absence
of sight,
the darkness
beckons.

Like the white
lotus, open
to the possibility
of your own sweet light.

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The Only Source of Light

If I had not stepped outside
of the darkened house tonight,
I would have missed the ripple
of Jupiter behind low clouds,
and the musk of burned cedar
collecting in the eaves.  I would not
have noticed the small flame flickering
inside of my own bedroom window,
softening the walls
with an almost unbearable
sweetness.