There is a space

a hollow

where one can get caught

trapped.

A space of contemplation

that although silent,

is nothing close to quiet.

The cacophony of voices

outdated and false

perpetuating misbeliefs

bolstering notions

of lack

unworthiness.

I sit amongst these voices

witness their false declarations pull at me like the tides

dragging me out and under

throwing me back to land

watching

waiting

to see

if I will crawl

up to solid and dry ground

or sit on the shifting sands

to be pulled out and under again.

There’s a koan imparting wisdom-

to survive the plunge over the waterfall

to the jagged rocks below

one must be the water.

So, I sit.

I sit,

becoming the ocean,

the tides,

a wave,

a drop.

I watch beliefs

tug

pull at me.

I finally see them,

an external force

no longer originating within.

These works come from that hollow space.

They come from within the hours of this inner dialogue.

They come from edge of the beach and from beneath the waves.

They come from becoming the drop.   -eweber