Walking to the golden shore, the fullness of life rushes in to take me home.
The cold ocean splashes at my feet. They suction to the saturated sand, leaving prints that disappear over and over. Only the essence of contact remains.
Imprints of speechless, dissolved in my heart, or the lapping water.
I can’t tell which.
She remembers and learns from everything at once.
One by one, with the giant breath of the breeze, my garments fall to the ground.
I have given up my robes with the insanity of sainthood.
We are more free than that.
What a sweet dream it was.
Whatever is woken up here was inside us all along.
We are all loved the same.
And the sun goes down on us all.