Out beyond ideas of wrong-doing and right-doing, there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
The morning wind spreads its fresh smell.
We must get up and take that in,
that wind that lets us live.
Breathe before its gone.
Dance, when you’re broken open.
Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off.
Dance in the middle of the fighting.
Dance in your blood.
Dance, if you’re perfectly free.