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
Meanwhile, someplace in the world, somebody is making love and another a poem.
Where do you see a window you can open for a subtle sacrament to slip into your day?
The seed of life is within us all, our dance here is mundane, strange and wonderful.
Give yourself permission to rest and receive lullabies for your heart.
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