There is an order in the pulse,

There is a rhythm to the rhyme,

In the things that we find,

In the things that are hidden,

Within the pulse,

Layered beyond our vision,

Hidden beyond our reach,

Until our reach expands,

Within the pulse,

Surrendered to the order,

The order creation knows,

The order that holds all things.

The above poem came to me some months ago, in one of my morning practice sessions, in the clarity of opening up the creative space. As I revisit it now, I am reminded of where the "creative space" can go, when one is truly surrendered (losing one's ego/self) within it. I'll keep revisiting this one.