We try, again and again to describe what keeps us awake,
We try to describe the indescribable ache.
We know… it is pointless. The tail of a snake,
Or painting by a fire the perfect snowflake…
And yet… we must. It’s somewhat of an obsession,
We just get tangled in asking the question…
That something we’re after is so close and elusive,
the furthest you’ll get from being conclusive.
It’s there in plain sight!
But then when I ask it – ‘Come out to the light!’…
It is suddenly shy. Hiding between my words…
underneath my sentences, it’s like holding unto birds…
And so… — Gratitude.
Oh sister Gratitude, so much has been written, so much has been said.
And yet, you… who holds the secrets to the universe, remain so seldom-ly fed.
We are one and the same. The you, the are, the we. Even the them, the I and the me.
Within and without, above and below.
There is nothing here but one huge great show.
In truth, when in sight, you might remark that remarkably, we can’t tell each other apart.
When you see, when you know, you’ll know and you’ll see how none of these can be any other than we.
And yet… Huzzah! As if by the wave of a wand, the we has turned into them, you and me.
How peculiar, how miraculous. How can this be?!
How is it possible that the one who is all can forget and not see?!
We, as in One, chose to forget. To create this miracle where we can ignore and neglect.
To choose not to see, and marvel and praise, that you are right there, and here I am me.
And so… we devised an ingenious device.
That’s no matter how deep we can slumber and sleep.
We’ll choice-fully applaud to the imperfect and flawed.
In offering of gratitude, to all that there is,
We enforce the state of being in two,
but not to forget that the me is you too.
Gratitude is the choice, the awareness in you.
Marveling at the miracle of the one who is two.
Every breath that you take, every gesture you make,
Is nothing but proof that you’re fully awake.
Choosing to forget that you’re one and not two,
That your life is so perfect, you are just so so true.