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 21, 2016

What do I see?

God the creator mirrored
in thy face,
Thine eyes shall see,
God's image
in the glass .... I send to the
                             Hafiz, The Garden of Heaven, The poems of Hafiz, p.33

eyes they say
are the windows of the soul
and our faces

ah, on them is written
our story

not just our earthly story
but our everlasting story

in our faces is eternity

revealed in the wrinkles
the age spots
the gaunt cheeks, or perhaps the double chin

what is revealed
in the perfectly imperfect symmetry?

what do we see when we look at another?
do we see adjectives?
man, woman, black, white, brown
beautiful, ugly
young, old

or can we see more?

can we see the hopes and dreams
the fears
the failures
the hurt and the pain,

can we see the longing,
the deep yearning to be loved?

each face reflects the Sacred
that face we see looking up at us from the sidewalk
that face glowering from the television
that face, drawn and tired, sitting in our office
that face laughing on the dance floor

that face,
those eyes,

behind them eternity stretches

and there, not just in the depths
but everywhere, woven into the fabric of this mortal

is the Sacred from which this one came
the Sacred to which he or she will return
the Sacred which even now
dwells with in


what do I see in the face of that one before me?
what do I see in the face of the one
who stares back at me out of the mirror?


the Sacred

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