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Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning



Friday, February 23, 2018

Beautiful, terrifying


So every day
I was surrounded by the beautiful crying forth
of the ideas of God,
one of which was you.
              Mary Oliver
____________________

The morning is a crying forth of Sacred joy
Bursting forth in colors
Darkness dying
Light being birthed

Unseen things
Becoming clear in the brightness
Of that precious light

So too the sights and sounds of days
Winter winds
Snow on the mountains
Dogs galloping joyfully, full of life
The eagle soaring

The evening is crying forth of Sacred sadness
Light fading
Something ending
A final burst of brilliance
Then day is gone
And blackness descends
Pressing into our own empty space
Our own grief

And alone we walk
Accompanied by memories of things past
And fears of things to come
We walk and walk those dark roads

Until the Sacred cries forth again
Beautiful, terrifying
The ideas of God

Of which I am one
Of which you are another
Beautiful
Terrifying

Sacred children
Born of joy and grief
Living, dying
Coming, going

Each day
Each moment
A new song

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