This
By Don Iannone

It flows through me
...and all other things.
There is but one--
consciousness.
Nothing separate
...or distinct
...to ponder, struggle with
...fix, or integrate.
In its presence I sit
...before a Tucson sunrise--
an extravagent display of light
...that sweeps through me
...and carries me away
...from all feelings of separateness.
I am nothing
...that all isn't as well
...and nothing is that I'm not.
We are here for one another
...and because of one another
...but not in the sense
...of there being a separate you or me
...but in the sense we are part of one.
We can't understand it all
...but there is nothing to understand
...once we know we are it.
We need only be in its presence.
It's a sense.
...you get sometimes
...and sometimes you don't.
When you realize your presence in it
...there is only "this."
Not "this" or "that."
Only "this."

From Tucson with Mary
sitting in the presence of the sun.