I have a small mind.
It is accustomed to working with concepts, 
to solving and fixing. 
It is satisfied with its questions, 
and proud of its answers. 

It becomes uncomfortable 
when placed in a container of silence. 
It perceives the possibility of demotion, 
and begins to fuss and fidget.
It shows itself to be an insecure child, 
the amnesiac offspring of 
a secular world. 

In defence of my small mind, 
and to give it its due,  
it has generated much beauty,
sculpted words, crafted sounds, refined spaces. 
It ensures that I have cleaned my teeth and paid the bills. 
I am glad of its companionship,
and grateful for its service. 

After much strife, 
we have reached a conclusion:  
we are on the same team, 
my small mind and I.

So now, engaged in the patient art 
of not-expecting,  
we sit together in quietness, 
without activity or movement, 
and slowly learn 
what we were not taught.

We meet ourselves
as we are:
a singular lens, 
an awareness, 
an emptying vessel
opening itself to the 
breath of creation.