Picture a violin snug in its case,
A nest of Russian wooden dolls,
The inner sanctum
Of an unencumbered life.
To get there fall silent but not down,
Go in and pass through
The constant chatter in your brain
Until you reach a sanctuary
Where the outside simply isn't
Unless a dog barks
Or a truck rumbles by.
Then dive
And if you meet your inner stranger
On the way down
Introduce him to your mantra
And watch them improvise a dance.
Fold into your Self like a parachute
Collapsing when you land
By breathing in and out
With the slow and steady rhythm
Of a metronome
Until time stops turning on your wrist
And you lose the drift
Of what your thoughts are thinking.
This is it. Yes. This.
Such stillness, such bliss,
So much invisible beauty to explore.
Bury yourself in it up to its hilt
And be glad you exist
Because even slow motion
Moves a little faster
When the hands of a clock
Knock on your door.
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