There is a Place

There is a place within each footstep, within each glance,
There is a place where everything is exactly as it should be.

Never mind the rain or wind, the grey skies wearing winter colours still
When you might yearn for something softer.

Even mud or a broken grocery bag, the contents spilling,
Even when your brother said goodbye and you were there and he,
But then that was the last, last time. Even then.

Never mind. There is a place where everything is endless, whole, giving
All that should be given and nothing more, and nothing less.

The reflection in rain drop on twig contains the most that the world ever could contain.

And it is all that there is and it is always the perfect amount - indwelling.

And did you know that there is actually no time?
A day, a week, a year or two - passed by as if they hadn't existed. Didn't exist.

There is a place, which is everywhere really, and in that place
There are no mistakes, no choice is less than - greater than.
You could look and listen and feel for days and days on end and you wouldn't find
A thing that wasn't perfect.

You wouldn't find a thing.