Grammar, disquieted, dithers…
words are redundant and die
even the question-mark slithers
into the void of its ‘why?’

Life is a road going nowhere,
home is a place ‘you’ can’t find
yet it’s also the longing to go there -
it’s beyond the conjection of mind

You’re bound to something that’s boundless -
it’s Nothing pretending to ‘be’
speaking a language that’s soundless
foreign to ‘you’ and to ‘me’

Yet there’s a strange kind of knowing
which disregards rational thought -
a gale of laughter is blowing
and in it the freedom we’ve sought

That laughter is You, You’re the Lover
delighting in all that You’re seeing
there’s nothing you need to discover
you’re paradoxically Being.

© Lizzie Leigh

From ‘Simply This’ (pub. 2005, edited 2024)

Picture credit: Albrecht Fietz | Pixabay