The trap

I felt warm sunlight
draped around my shoulders
and a peace settled in
that was not of me.

This body has no importance.
It is but a vehicle.
A window into the world.
It serves the mind
But can also cage the mind.
It roots us, grounds us,
Limits our thinking
To one place, one time,
A single series of events.
As the body lives,
So thought follows,
As if creating a likeness
In honor of the body.

The mind too has no importance.
It is a tool.
A lens to pick out detail.
It serves the spirit
But can also cage the spirit.
It bounds us, constrains us,
Limits our imagining
To what we can conceive:
To the limits of our dreams.

Spirit is altogether something else.
Sensitive, it recognizes
what we cannot know.

Purity is essential to this
profoundly subtle instrument.

Chastity also:
To be singular in desire,
for wanting anchors the spirit
to its source of hope.

Finally freedom:
Be unburdened by other convictions
Than the certainty of good.

Spirit is the light of the mind
it knows what cannot be defined.
It hears without a whisper
and continues to feel the sun
in the dead of night.