The Quiet Hunt

Your dream,

the desire,

the fire within

flies right there before you

not quite,

but close,

nearly brushing your skin.

You run,

you push yourself

further and further

Your muscles are sore,

your heart drips blood.

The vision is blurry

but you won’t let the tears

crawl over the dam

'cause that would mean years

of the chase and the work

and the hunt

is blown

into the wind

and you’ll end up alone.

But sometimes to hunt

means to sit still.

Sometimes to hunt

means to let yourself feel.

Sometimes to hunt

means waiting for the sign.

Sometimes to hunt means

allowing the divine

to come to you in peace

in stillness

and quiet.

When you try to catch a leaf

falling, mid-air.

You observe,

you leap,

you miss it by hair.

It quickly changes course,

swerves out of grasp,

leaves you empty-handed

surrounded

and filled

by emptiness vast.

So, centre yourself,

be grateful, be calm,

breathe in, breathe out,

then open your heart.

Slowly learn the dance

your dream enacts

leave behind the pursuing,

instead of hunting, attract.

Sometimes to hunt

means to sit still.

Sometimes to hunt

means to let yourself feel.

Sometimes to hunt

means to wait and make room,

to let the Universe steer

the dream towards you.