THE STILL POINT
Stand still. Find your still point.
You will find a sanctuary there.
All the wind you can whistle for
will run through you like spirits
hovering, pulling you through
all the small boxes keeping you
your own unshackled prisoner,
moored to fears fencing you in
like the pages of a book bound
to a rind, like a caged sparrow
perched on a bar will hop down
rather than fly in narrow air.
When you get there, that place
will not be there till you find it.
Build it from fondest dreams,
house them in open chambers.
Let the winds of everywhere
and everything rifle through
its corridors to find you free,
unafraid to roam elsewhere
because you know there is this
still point to go home to. Always.
--- Albert B. Casuga