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.
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
the sacred in us
a poet does not make poems- She-he empties us from the grip of our own fear by evoking a deep pool of the sacred in us - When she-he walks by the gate of hell, the hell transforms into an orchard, continuously birthing life.
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