This just about sums it up.

becoming
with thanks to rilke, neruda, rumi

i am experiencing
the strangest
purity
of spirit -
like staring
into the face of
rilke’s angel,
so terrifying in
its beauty
and absoluteness.
i somehow feel
surged with the
energy
that could
launch me over
a cliff -
and, laughing,
i would descend -
and in
so doing -
float right back.
i feel like
i am in danger of
becoming
detached -
free-wheeling,
“heart broke loose,”
ancient
whirling dervish
spouting the
metaphysical
that is becoming
so much more
real
than the
real.
what is the
actual
danger here?
i am
propelled
by a force
that is
beyond and
within me -
i could lose it
all
but somehow
still
walk on.
perception is
pried loose
from the bonds
we make -
suddenly
there is such
grace
in the wildness.
the order without
order
sharpens
before our eyes..
the step,
sometimes -
it’s that easy
to take.
- ajd, 1/25/12