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

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Bearing the Beams of Love

Look on the rising sun: there God does live
And gives his light, and gives his heat away.
And flowers and trees and beasts and men receive
Comfort in morning joy in the noonday.

And we are put on earth a little space,
That we may learn to bear the beams of love
                                A snip from William Blake’s Poem, “Little Black Boy”

it was an unquiet day
it was an unquiet night

too much anger
too much frustration
at our common inhumanity
at the games we play with our self-made versions of the Sacred

too much despair at the gross lack of insight of those who say
they serve God
while serving themselves
and hurting others

too much smugness
too much testosterone
to much greed
too much

so I went through the day
the smoke of my own anger
drifting around me soul

my own lack of insight
allowing me to make the wrong of the world all about

the magical, mystical them
who hate God
whom God hates

and then
morning came
quiet in the trees
early summer green
fawns exploring my flowerbeds
birds singing
horses playing

ah yes

In this moment
of rising sun
 there God does live

And gives light
And love away

and flowers and trees and beasts and men
ah, even men

and bear the beams of love

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