there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque, a church
where I kneel.
Prayer should bring us to an altar where no walls or names exist.
Is there not a region of love where the sovereignty is
where ecstasy gets poured into itself
where the wing is fully alive
but has no mind or
there is a temple, a shrine, a mosque,
that dissolve, that
Give yourself permission to rest and receive lullabies for your heart.
God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night.
Meanwhile, someplace in the world, somebody is making love and another a poem.
A winter solstice 2020 short stream for a Movement Medicine community
The seed of life is within us all, our dance here is mundane, strange and wonderful.
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