I Am

I am not the painting, but the blank canvas;
The bright, blue sky; joyous and clear.
Here, ready, a delighted host
To all that is and all that might become.

Where do I start and end?

What a funny question,

For I clearly have no edges.

Within me, anything might appear,

Here... a coffee flask, a tree, a deer!
And I meld with each expression,

With no experience of separation;

All that dances within me, this consciousness, this view,

Is me too.

I do not know much,

But I do know this;

That we meet ourselves in joy and love

When nothing is resisted,

Serious or awry.

Oh, how "me" it feels to exist,

As the canvas, as the sky.