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, December 15, 2014

Shades of Grey

“Crackers are short on sparkle.”
― Margaret Mitchell, Gone with the Wind

Some days are grey
Let’s face it
They are just flat grey

The world outside out window is grey
Our mind is grey and fuzzy
But worst,
That inner place, were we live most deeply
Is shrouded in gray

Wandering into our soul is like slinking through
The wet, dank smelly streets of old London
Hoping not to meet Jack the Ripper

Today thought it was going to be grey
It had great intentions

The fog clung to the ground persistently
Like a newborn baby to its mother

There were shades of gray, the listless gray of sunless snow
Trees were coated with hoar frost
but the light was missing

And then, it wasn’t

a little break and a streak of light
and magic happened
the snow glittered
the hoar frost became nature’s way of putting on the Ritz
blue broke through grey
and even the gray, now hovering over sparkling white
got a personality

some days are like that
it just needs a glimmer, a sliver
of Sacred

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