8 November 2026

By Philip Kuepper

They rowed between the blue
luminous of bay and sky.
Light lay golden on both.
Chocolate brown headlands rose
to the west, a hawk haloed with flight,
a halo the blades of the oars
mimicked in miniature
each time they penetrated,
and then surfaced the bay.
There was the morning,
in all its immaculateness,
the rowers rowed through
in communion with.
They rowed a paradox.
They were separate in wholeness,
each rower apart,
yet each a part of a crew.
They rowed to row to the core
of themselves, where self-awareness
waited for each of them.
They rowed toward their awakening.
They rowed to know enlightenment,
where all else fell away:
bay, sky, headlands, hawk, self,
while the light and the luminous
blue of the Cosmic Eye,
in which sight they rowed,
saw them realize being
in the moment.

(31 October 2026)