Sometimes. my ship wrecks but imbalance is impermanent. Like the boomerang, balance will have its return.
The self must settle somewhere two shores.
Make not a bond of love;
let it rather be a moving sea
between the shores of your soul.
Sustaining the meditative state is a constant shifting of course, ever mindful of each day’s tides. They are never the same.
Every day, I choose whether to rush inland or to remain offshore, anchor dropped in observation.
Wearying but worth it, this life.