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, August 10, 2015

When the clouds bleed

I wish I could speak like music

I wish I could put the swaying splendor
Of the fields into words

So that you could hold Truth
Against your body
And dance
                                                                Hafiz, The Gift, Ladinski, Trans., p. 305

morning sky
first grey then brightening

a fantasia
of oranges and reds
bleeding clouds
dripping brilliance into the morning

grain waving gently in the breeze
a chorus line
dancing to the music

fawns playing
birds trilling into the brittle air

sacred speak
creation music

a beauty

which makes

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