Rumi's field

Rumi’s field                                                                                       
 
Rumi’s field – beyond ideas
of wrong-doing and right-doing –
 
is not so far away. 
I’m running my hand
 
along the top of its fence.  It was never
a great distance to traverse
 
but a coming to a halt,
turning the handle
 
and swinging wide the gate.
No one to meet me there but myself,
 
unencumbered of my knothole view,
my prejudices and opinions.
 
Ah, to lie down burden-free
in that long grass with the wildflower scent
 
in the sun-warmed field, upheld
and surrendered like a body on the ocean face
 
letting the current move me where it will.
It’s so near, just over the fence,
 
and I won’t leave here without a fight
or until I find a way through its summoning gate.
 
O child of God, not far away nor far in the future.
Seek advice from your constant Companion.