On the first morning
I am content to 
step away from my daily practice
without context or pretext

(no illness,
no pressing engagement, no need
to flee a disaster natural or man-made
or handmade)

and feel absolutely no
guilt or tug back
toward the Work —

that morning, I will look up
and keep looking up
and rise until
there will be no up
left to see —

only Surroundings,
the Directionless, the place

I was meant to be — place
where the Work ends. The place
the Work describes
and explains to me,
patiently,
one morning at a time.