Summer is here,
The old ‘I”,
Would have made a list,
Of all likes and dislikes,
Would have chased the mirage
Outside of her reach
Till the end of her seasonal knowing.

The “I” here,
Is not
What it was.
She sits or walks,
She moves within
Unmeasured space.
Some call it love,
Others, living in now.

It is not her concern,
How the name sounds,
What feels alive,
in her entire being,
Underneath of her thoughts
and emotions,
is a pure bliss.

No word could create
The not knowing feelings,
If the seeds are not already
Beneath the soil,
No watering could grow

There is easiness
In flow,
Passing through the space,
Without knowing
What is next.

Without any knowing
“I “ and its stories ,
all are gone.
The sky is clear,
unclouded by thought,
rests in boundless cobalt blue
Quiet and free,
stillness speaks.

© Serena Devi, June 2011