My confusion falls flat
as it exits my mouth.
His questions live and pulse
toward an unseen center.

Where is your life?
Where is your practice?

I squint and laugh,
I feel like a child trying
to hold something too big
for his hands.

The room grows now
and drops into still water.
There are no problems,
there is just the light
from my old knots burning.

Heavy with gratitude,
I walk into the hallway.
Bowing toward the door
my confusion rises like grass.