My teachers talk about enlightenment.
Some strange thing, this so-called enlightenment
No prolonged ecstasy.
No endless effervescence.
Not even a momentary orgasm.
No, this kind of enlightenment converses matter-of-factly.
And speaks only of enoughness.
It’s enough, this life of yours.
It is enough to be
Without censure
Or denial.
In this enlightenment,
Feelings are felt,
Sensations sensed,
And tears still fall.
But, these tears do not sing of grief,
They softly murmur about unbridled movement,
They flow through what is
With a sweet yearning and a gratitude
That melts hearts
And makes souls overflow.
David Hanig 