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

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Fear turned to Ash

Love is
The funeral pyre
Where I have laid my living body

All the false notions of myself
That once caused fear, pain

Have turned to ash
As I neared God

it was just a walk
my normal two mile walk
along rural roads

one cannot help but be broken open
out there
amidst the mountains
and trees

as one wanders beneath
that brilliant canopy of blue
and hears
the wild birds sing

one cannot help but be broken open
and sometimes
poured out

this day
I went to dark places
to failures
to do
to be

in my minds eyes I imagined
people looking at me
with eyes that despised
so many mistakes
so many flaws
so many people

they were of course my own eyes

and there was nothing to do
but to walk
and place one foot in front of the other

and there was nothing to do
but breathe

and in the hot fire
of Sacred love

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