The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
from Collected Poems
Many on the spiritual path rightfully long for a sudden point in time when a shift happens
Where do you see a window you can open for a subtle sacrament to slip into your day?
A Sign of Our Times or How the Black Madonna Is Shaking Us Up for the Twenty-First Century
Meanwhile, someplace in the world, somebody is making love and another a poem.
The seed of life is within us all, our dance here is mundane, strange and wonderful.
to fashion universes out of emptiness
What if you thought of it as the Jews consider the Sabbath—the most sacred of times?
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