Bardo

In the middle of the night
before the second sleep
we float in a different realm
own a changed consciousness,
voices of truth come to us,
understandings clarify,
a ghostly presence inhabits us.
We become an altered presence–
transparent, ethereal.

We are very young there–
small, peering into the darkness,
chipmunks cowering.
In the low-light,
we watch for what will manifest.
We’re tender, easily hurt,
a child in a fantasy world.

We are boats going slowly
through dense fog.
Things are silent
in the bado
except for the heart
which pounds.