Here I Am
Here I am, sitting on the bed, pen in hand and writing once more. Here I am, as the air in the room and the space in the room and the wind blowing through the window. Here I am as the sound of birds singing in the trees. Here I am, as the light spilling through the window. Here I am, as the sound of music wafting in from the other room.
Here I am as the feeling of restlessness in my belly, as the memory of holding hands on a winter morning in London. Here I am as the story of my life, the highs and lows of the drama, playing out in words and pictures and swirls of feeling and sensation.
Here I am as all the people in my life, all of them dancing and laughing, crying and dying, coming and going, leaving and returning… here I am as all the people of world, all here, in this moment…
Here I am as you reading these words, reflecting the ancient light of presence, right here, right here, here and now.
Here I am, everywhere as everything, everyone all once… here… here I am.
~ Mike Jenkins