Held

seeing myself, in fragile belief of identity, small, fearful even in projection of something more, something powerful - and I know that this too, this false sense of what I am, is cherished within the inclusive nature of existence. All beliefs are entertained in reality, however briefly they are held. Yet always there is the press of truth against them, reality not so much parting for their way, but gently allowing things to be until their moment comes to pass. 

It's unconditional love. 

It's what we are. 

Even as we believe otherwise. 

and so I see myself - at once separate, small, and fragile - and too the allowing space for this this thought, this illusion of self, to be. 

I am held in love. 

By love. 

Both false and true self divine. 

life plays itself in every character - and I believe myself a person, living apart from others, from the greater aspect of the whole. I'm convinced of a separate existence for us all. 

But not entirely. 

Even my forgetting belongs. 

Life still plays through everything, existence remains unbroken, one, and I find a tenderness offered for the small, forgotten things of the world. 

It's all held in love. 

Everything. 

Me.

You. 

We are held in the very truth of what we are. 

~

Peace,

Eric