Freedom

[Rootsie]

So this is how it feels to be free.
All that is small and pitiful,
all well-worn worrying voices
subsumed
in the magnitude.
The spaciousness.
All finds rest.
My reptilian crocodilian
flooded out
by neocortex.

And the love. Ah, the love,
released from all that racket
is indeed a fiery rose,
fragrant, pulsing, perfected:
to be Yours beyond doubting,
beyond primitive emotion,
is to belong in just the same way
to all the world.  

This
is freedom.