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

Thursday, January 21, 2016

perching on the edge of eternity

“notice the convulsed orange inch of moon
perching on this silver minute of evening”
― E.E. Cummings


notice this moment
deep night
heart beating
mind wandering
soul wondering

like a gang of demented dwarfs
mines its way through
through the tortured soil
that is my flesh

I try to grab scattered thoughts
but like cats which refuse to be herded
they scatter
and I am left empty handed
with only
the scent of pain
clinging faintly
to my fingers

so I can do naught
but sit back
and breathe in
and breathe out
seeking the places that do not hurt

heart places
deep places
sacred places
where all is present
pain and comfort
hope and despair
darkness and light

I can only breathe
as my silent guardians
squat stolidly
and watch me
as they watched my father before me

in this silver


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