The Only Hour

If this were your last hour of your life, your last hour of practice,
the corpse you lie in is the corpse you die in, how would you practice?

If this were your last breath you’d take,
your last exhalation following your fullest inhalation,
how conscious would you breathe?

If this were your first chance at a lasting handstand,
would you stand with your hands up in praise and rejoice?

If this were your last OM before returning home,
how would you recite this mantra poem?

If this were your last chance for expressive emotion,
the last of any bodily motion,
would you allow your heart to spill out into the expansive ocean?

If this were your last moment of silence,
before returning, once again to Cosmic Science,
what would be your lack of words?

 

If this were my last hour of my life, my last hour of practice,
I would practice soul in body, embodied by soul,
last of my everything, everything with One.

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