I wake.
A day shows itself naked.  What shall we wear?

Oh that I can see
Beyond my bloated nothingness to
You.

I seek the view
From Your love-terraced
Garden.

When the fog bank of
Indecision, self-seeking, fear, abandonment, anger, frustration, ambition, mis-placed loyalty, codependency, dysfunction, irritation, self-righteousness and arrogance, boredom, and
down-right crankiness
distracts me,
I seek the sweet clear breath of
Your inspiration.

I relax.
I release all struggle.
I let go of the rope and
Fall back into
Your arms.

We sit on Your soft magic carpet
Above all strife, sickness and death–
Siddhartha is driving–
I need not run this show.

My soul is refreshed.
My body is restored.
And I dwell in Your Garden
Forever more.