Dear friend:-
You're here finally and I bow to the one that brought you here. You're here because you chose to be here at this time. You're here to celebrate beauty through words we speak, through deep silence. We might call them poetry or songs or chants. It does not matter what we call them. What matters most is you're here. These words come through us like flowers come through plants, like the rains pour from the sky. May we all become the light we spread, the beauty we speak. Blessings.
Friday, August 26, 2011
child's hand
You touch a child's hand
and suddenly your migraine dissolves.
Don't ask what was happening.
For love is a miracle.
With the emptiness like this
you can lift even the mud of worries
from the Nile's shoulder and say to her
"Now sing!" .
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