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

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Sacred Love

Late at night
In the clamoring silence
My unquiet mind searches
For the keystone

For that small piece of wisdom
that will help me understand
what cannot be understood

to search among the fallen ruins
of ideas and beliefs
the rubble of what I once thought
so clear

there are many things I do not understand
the sacred
dancing in my soul
giving me joy yet driving me into discontent
and endless search

ripping at my certainty
making me more, and less

why is it that answers do not come?
Or come only to become, once again questions?

But there is this sacred love
which I cannot understand
but which always

is there
brilliant and alive
like a lonely flower
among the stones

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