An old English rose rested its weight against the fence, and, grateful for the reprieve it gasped. What was once deemed impossible now a fading memory.

In these precious few moments, the seeking subsides offering in its place, a broader depth of knowing. What we wish, what we desire – our greater impediments.

We seek the truth, but when it knocks at the door, we turn it away. But this frail English rose? She dares to understand.

“Like vanishing dew,” the poet Ikkyu writes. “a passing apparition or the sudden flash of lightning — already gone.” Thus should one regard this conflict of self, chasing fear with a simple willingness – to just simply be – embracing the light along with the rain.

In peace, my sweet friends…

Namaste ❣️