Eyes closed, yet
mind still prone to wander,
flounder, forget why I even started.

Not my intention to practice silence
the way rain falls from the sky.
Sometimes far too long between.

Sometimes far too much
at once to be absorbed, pooling,
ponding, where once was only dust.

Steady, is my intent.
Anchored, moored, awash,
continuous flow, leaving silt to settle.

Instead, dustbowl mind, swirling,
whirling while I search for calm,
realize, return, resettle.

Time passes, waiting,
suddenly aware, full presence,
taste of possibility,

a sliver more assurance that
there could be a God and if there is,
she is here, in me, in everything, and she is Love.