The air flows:
In
Out,
And mindfulness grows,
Sleep eludes me,
Frustration blows,
But I do my tasks,
And keep practicing.
Bad news keeps coming too,
But I tell myself
This is what
My practice is for,
It’s not just for sunny days
When all is going well,
But for days when I feel
As if I dwell at the bottom of a well.
The mud is thick
And my legs are stuck,
It pulls me down
But I fear not the muck.
In a day or two
My new mediation course will start,
And then we’ll see
If I still have heart.
Through the murky water
It’s hard to see
Where I am going
Or what I can be.
Will I be able to continue
On this difficult trip?
Can I float to the surface?
Or, will I merely further slip?
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