Sunday

A day to be in a state of being, Resting, retiring from lifelong chasing, Away from it all, fruit-seeking doing, Just to be, yon of bounds of becoming. An act short of retiring to forest, Learning to do without creature-care joys, A day of moral rectitude and rest, Time it is to listen to inner voice. To reflect on how the journey has been, If need be reorienting its course, To be in touch with Self dwelling within, A day when to voice of heart ye endorse. It ends up still more heavily loaded, Or idling be when the sole mode instead. ______________________________________________________ Sunday was originally meant to be a day of rest from the usual mundane pursuits, retiring from it all, and reinventing. The life that is lived is too much oriented to becoming. But the day has been reduced to resting and idling, or chasing other pursuits and making it all the more loaded. If only we halt, take a deep breath, think, and reorient our life a little differently; to look within, and feel the bliss of the Self; the joys of simply being. ______________________________________________________ Sonnets | 08.06.08 |