Where Everything Is Heard

I live at point zero,
where no idols rise from belief,
no flags wave for nation or race,
no teams divide,
no scriptures compete.

Only the Word.
Only sound.
Only the Song.

Where no one splinters
the tone of truth,
no throat distorts
the frequency of trust,
no mind coils
around the resonance of feeling.

Where God is nakedness,
an absolute clarity of consciousness,
a vast, unveiled field
of perception.

Where distance dissolves,
and separation
means nothing.

Where,
if a blossom opens
on the far side of the world,
you witness.
If a deer licks her fawn,
you feel loved.
If a cygnet cracks its shell,
you are born again.

Where sorrow
ripens a pearl
in the deep hush of a shell,
and even across oceans,
you feel it.
You weep,
without knowing why.