I used to think 
That to find the truth 
I had to mine 
The self 
For the original sin,
That first crime 
Where I walked away 
When I should have 
Remained,
That first step I took 
Outside of myself 
Which split me 
And delivered 
All the subsequent pain. 

And perhaps there is truth there
But also 
Such a long time 
Using the fragmented mind 
In an attempt to fix itself, 
Yet finding 
Only a collage 
Of disappointment
And recurring dreams 
Of regret. 

Now, I do not mine 
But sit here relaxed 
Without the need
For cause and effect, 
Holding loosely
A mild indifference 
To symptoms
And that great causal defect 
That the mind 
Made into 
An unwinnable game. 

Perhaps there is a partial truth 
In searching out that 
Primordial shame 
Locked in a deep pit 
Beyond the scope
Of finding. 

But perhaps 
The greater truth 
Remains 
In the full heart 
That bears 
All that could ever
Come to pass, 
All found 
In its witnessing. 

For the greater truth 
Lies in love

In open love 
That always looked 
Without flinching 

In freeing love 

That brings the greater truth 

Of love’s 
Acceptance 
Of everything.