By Sigrid E. Mortensen

© 2023

I invite the Self That I Am

To climb down the staircase from my mind

And peer out the windows of my eyes.

I invite the Self That I Am

To sink deep into this body

To feel the weight of it

The truth of it

Pressed against this chair.

I invite the Self That I Am 

To turn its attention 

Gently 

Away from words once spoken

And words yet to speak

And listen instead

To the sounds in the air that breathes me.

The Self That I Am

Yearns to experience Life

Real Life, not

Life Imagined or

Life Remembered

But Life as it is Lived in the Now.

I invite the Self That I Am

To feel this pen in my fingers

And this paper

Smooth

Beneath my hand

And the ever present Joy of this

One moment

That strings like a pearl to the next

And the next

Each uniquely shimmering

Distinct from the one that precedes it

Or the one to follow

But none less achingly beautiful.

The more I issue the invitation

The more it is accepted

The more the worries

And the regrets

Fall away

And I am left with

Giddy gratitude for the

Perfection

Of What Is.