Not Beholden to Sadness

I am not beholden to sadness when I remember the simple joys.

The folds of a woman’s body. The strength of a man. The warmth of a cup of tea. The soft laughter of the sunshine as she plays with the light on the on the rocks, tickling my senses in delight. I am aware of undecorated ecstasy as I behold majesty in the mundane. A sigh of recognition.

And then, thoughts and breath suspended in a pause to recognize beauty.
Behold the continuous expression of life, breath connecting us to the eternal
Recycled cells of the ages transform bodies of wisdom
Remembering it was always there, union.
Laughing at my forgetfulness.

Beauty shines forth from within. Not limited to the flesh of earth and body
So too the mind stuff, twisting, flushing — regurgitating. Relaxing.
Ever so rightly patterned to reflect the experiences of a life.
And should I behold her with equal parts gravitas and nonchalance,
I too will be transformed.
Melting into rapture, not beholden to sadness
as I dance with the empire of death.