A Void That Contains Everything

(from Within My Illusions)

In the deepest stillness there is movement.
In silence there is sound.

I sit in the saffron eye
of a daisy, encircled
by its deep pink, velveteen rays.

Bees and butterflies dance
an elaborate ballet
in, around, and through this garden.
Pollinating potential.

Their patterns of motion and rest
are as impossible to predict as
the currents of wind
that move trees to surrender
seeds of intention.

Quiet buzzes through me
until it becomes a part of me,
rearranges me
the way the vibrations of a song can change
the crystalline structure of water.

Encased in this space,
in the pregnant womb beyond time and place,
skin dissolves into ether and
I become the dancer and the dance,
the instrument and the music.
A conduit of chance.