Uncarried Knowing.
( a zen moment )

I do not walk by years,
but by the quiet marks left on the soul.

Pages turn somewhere within me—
not written, but revealed
in moments that linger like ink in water.

What I know is a small flame,
cupped gently against the wind of not-knowing.

I stand where light touches shadow—
not blinded, not burdened—
just watching how they lean into each other.

Between breaths,
between thoughts,
there is a place that does not ask for answers.
I live there.

Ideas arrive like birds at dusk—
they rest briefly in my hands,
then return to the sky.
I do not name them mine.

No voice is sacred,
no figure complete—
even mountains bow to time.

Learning moves like a river through us,
unowned, uncontained—
spilling quietly into every open palm,
forgetting no one.

TsL. 26
#mypoems #zen