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

Monday, May 26, 2014

Held Gently in a Sacred Hand

the rock lies in my hand
it has traveled far
pushed by glaciers
rolled by quick flower streams

and now worn
and smooth it rests
and less defined
than when torn from the bedrock
it began its journey

so too this one who holds its worn smoothness gently
this day I wake
feeling worn
and less defined

made smaller by my tumbling twisting journey
worn away by life
eroded, or just smoothed?

I only know
I too am ready to find
a place of rest
where I am held gently
in a Sacred hand

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