Spirit sends so many signals;
in the drumming of my heart,
the smoke of my breath,
the blood of my leg sticks,
the cracking of my bones.
But do I listen? Oh no.
I want the instant fix,
so fight a battle I cannot win.
For it is spirit I must follow,
or my life will become
a hollow mental construct.
Spirit’s winds signalling change,
keep blowing, blowing,
until lovingly I breathe them in
and begin to unwind, slowly, slowly.
I see how my mind’s resistance
has protected and served me well.
My resistance, honored, is going, going.
I become a beautiful flower unfurling,
opening, opening, growing, growing.
Spirit’s winds are blowing away the old stale ways,
and I’m breathing a freer, clearer me into existence.