Just Don’t

Don’t. Just don’t.
That is all
that needs saying.

Let the music of the oak bark soothe you;
let the sound of you stroking it, as rough as it is,
come in and ease your mind;

just don’t fret at all.
Don’t worry about the past, or wring your hands
about the future.

You were born into the mistake
of trying to mold the present
into what you wanted it to be.

Stop now; listen up.
The oak and its denizens know better than you.
They whisper incessantly of what is here

now, under your ear to begin, then
inside you. A universe comes to life
when you listen for it.

Stop with the nonsense, the quarreling
over the heads of pins, the nagging
of the viewpoints aiming to succeed,

the long war-arc of your mindless chatter
trying to interpret the meaning of you
as you flit between interpretations.

Stop, stop
and hear the business inside the oak.
Do little. Do nothing. Do it all, do enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T