For Jeannine, who taught me to meditate

 

‘O body swayed to music, O brightening glance,

How can we know the dancer from the dance?’

‘Among School Children,’ W. B. Yeats

 

Know the veins of the leaf like the back of your hand

The clouds are not the sky.

 

Those thoughts in your head will keep on asking

Whydidhewhydidshewhydidyouwhy?

 

They’re just tired old actors onstage,

Reading the same old script from the same old page.

 

Above the clouds, the sky is blue

Breathe: and know that your thoughts are not you.

 

Can you believe it could ever be true

That the whole universe might live inside you?

 

Above the clouds, the sky is blue

Breathe in the world

Let it breathe you.