A still point anchors every action.
A motion stirs in every stasis.

No thing is truly still
in a world of time.
A stone is born and matures and ages
over a course of millennia.
We human beings do it in a few dozen cycles round the Sun.
Every phenomenon
has its time,
its birth and flowering and decay,
in a nanoquaver,
in an aeon,
or some span in between.

Keep a firm touch on gravitys ground.
Tune in to a far off pole star.
Taut twixt those two,
let your self be taken by cosmic motions.
Get on up: get down, get down!
Dance like a cool flame,
a murmuration

Let quiet be your food.
Let calm quench your thirst.
Sense a quivering in the immovable stance.
Feel it. Feed it.
Dance that tremble
into a mighty rumble
and with it feed the People.