"Thank You"

One moment

I believe

it was yesterday

or maybe only

one fresh moment ago,

God presenced within me,

“Thank You.”

This time

I knew

what for, for

This One, you see

has seen a lot,

been kissed by suffering

of many kinds, and colors—

like You have.

And you, and you, and you.

And God has become so much more perfect

because perfection can have degrees, you see:

kindness, even kinder

understanding, even deeper

compassion, more compassionate

love, yet more loving

And sadness?

softer than a teardrop

The moment just before

this brand-new moment

God wasn’t quite as perfect

as It is right now

like You

like Me

like We are

"The Blessing Self"

The Blessing Self

is not unlike

the small bundle

of feathers

and bones, and

tiny eyes that peer into

a world more vast than fathomable;

a life too big to

circumnavigate with only

feathers

and bones.

The Blessing Self

is like a bird,

born with a song

it keeps singing—

even when it can’t fly

for a time,

even when something is broken

for a time,

needs time

to mend, needs

a nest again, and the

safe boughs for it to nestle in...

Presence and Love.

The Blessing Self

has always been

more fragile than

The Higher Self—

wasn’t even built

for Forever

in this place.

Nevertheless,

Grace

has created It

as perfect as an egg,

as perfect as every feather

and tiny bone and beak,

and beating heart.

And The Blessing Self

will keep on singing,

with every body it is given,

a Higher Song.

"A Truth"

The Highest Presence

not coming; not going

is a Light

that doesn't dim.

It began, and beget us;

all we see, all we are:

“Pick a flower on earth,

and you move the farthest star”.

The Highest Presence,

my heart--your heart

is one thought, all thoughts

neither near, nor far;

is a Light watching light;

is a Light watching darkness,

“Pick a Flower on Earth

and you move the farthest Star”.

From where you look,

It too, will be looking,

yet when you can’t see It,

It still can be seen.

It offers This Truth:

I AM is what You Are…

"Pick a flower on Earth,

and you move the farthest Star".

Based on a quote by Paul Dirac, Nobel Prize physicist, 1933

"Is It Made of Love?"

I don’t know if my god
is the same as your god:

Is it made of Love?

Does it want for you
what you want for you?
Does it come to you
with hands opened,
asking for nothing,
but ready
for anything?

Does it whisper to you
of Light and of Stillness,
and point you toward
all of the paths
that will take you there?

Does it remind you
of your Seeing?
Does it remind you
of your Knowing?

Does it remind you
of the gentlest lover
ever you’ve dreamed,
caressing a weariness
from your heart?

Is it ever late?

Is it ever gone?

Is it made of Love?