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

Saturday, October 8, 2011


They have been called the window of the soul
Every day I see many eyes
Blue, brown, green
And eyes that seem to change
Moment by moment

Eyes that are joy full
Eyes that are rimmed with tears

What do those eyes
Those tears say
For in their silence they are not silent

Through the eyes one can see the soul
The anguish
The hope

In some eyes one’s sees a rich feast of emotions
In others fullness
Yet some eyes
Are dark
Like a window looking out on a moonless night

There is emptiness there
And despair

What is it Lord that has
Darkened that soul
Left it barely flickering?

Yes Lord, the darkness never wins
When your love is present

Help me lord
To to reach out
To care
To listen
To bring back the light
In those eyes

And in doing so
Bring back the light in my own

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