usually

usually it’s the head
clouded with conjecture
that answers my door
that wants to be captain
and drags around like a ball and chain
worries over a future that never comes

that is stuck like a boat run aground
telling again and again the same old story

sometimes
by grace or by gift
by practice or prayer
the heart breaks free of that mental anchor
sails to the inner sun
and sinks happily in a quiet ocean of knowing

then gives birth to unreasonable songs of joy
that pacify even the stormiest waters

doubt and self-importance gone
lost at sea
out of nowhere I know a peach appears

Swami Ramananda Signature