In my mind a heap of ideas. For me
thought is parallel not sequential.
On this day of seductive warmth I lie
In a green-fringed heaven, for once in harmony
With my environment; my ideas soft
And sweet as apricots piled up in a market.

But I am thinking none of them. Occasionally
They turn themselves over as if there was a mechanism
Operating autonomously to weave
And blend colours of thought in myriad hues.

Is this a natural state, or a reward
For years of dark wrestling – suddenly released
Into sunlight, all work done, boxes ticked?
Adebit sed non adebit, deus aderat.*

Those who have surrendered to vulnerability
Know the unseen is always present, reflecting back
Order and disorder alike :: a sleeping
Dragon or a fiery one, nostrils ablaze?
No state good or bad: but all formative
Of the kairos – be it peaceful or perilous.

O circle of Trismegistus, when
Shall I come to see your circumference?
Or have I?

*Invited or not, god is present.