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

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

The Compass of My Heart

The voices are many
they clamor
and shout
the compete
for what little attention I can offer

Do this!
Worry about that!
What if?
Do your think?
How are you going to solve this?
What if? (again)

Each voice in side me
whether it is
the lions roar
or the still small voice

the voice of hope
or the voice of fear

rises up from
the deep reaches of my heart

mixed into the cacophony
is one voice
that speaks my highest intention
the thing I vow
to do and be
from the deepest spot of my heart
that spot where
God dwells
may that be 
in the in the midst of the noise
the voice that sets
the compass of my heart

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