The Relief I Feel

These first breaths of purity of thought hold me before the day
with only the sounds of bird song
and the tapping of rain on a single layer
of cedar shingles.

These inhalations, still calm before the ritual of coffee
and malfeasance of the mind's controlling power,
are not polluted with high brambles, sharp blades of grasses,
or pointed tips of thistled wanting.

How will I explain to my sons
this dedication to darkest revenge
and the vendetta against the patriarchs suddenly abandoned--
all the other golden images we once worshipped, simply gone?

Now that the statues have been melted in truth's kiln
with common metals for their strength,
the beautiful opulence is gone.

The relief I feel is overwhelming.

I am completely peaceful in this garden where nothing grows

except the single lotus from the clouded and muddy pool
slowly collecting the warm tears of gratitude

of letting go.