Yes, all is holy.
Yes, all is sacred.

The folds of the inner workings.
The great mysteries that perpetuate the mechanics of the heart and creation.

This is what this is for.
The fires that burn deep and pure.
The wisdom and discipline that pulls up the sun in all it’s specialness and oneness.

The surrender into the cosmic, unidentifiable soup that is to be a human-
capable of so many things.

And the capacity of the mind-the matrix we build with thoughts; our etheric hands.
And yet, each day we wipe our brows to begin fresh work.
An entirely new set of circumstances.

And there are babies still hungry,women still raped. Screams that echoe and the mind at once says how could it ever be enough.

And the heart says be all that you are and you will anchor the same.
Words, so powerful;
prayers that source from the heart.

Yes, make them louder. Yes, go boldly. Yes, travel to the source of all that is.
That great space of empty fullness that reaches beyond the confines, between molecules seen and unseen.


A Gardener

And what say you of patience?
A virtue most slippery to the untrained eye.
Lost to most who find value in action,
the mind’s elixir to uncomfortability
and shock of being in skin,
itching to build. A fix.
What say you of stillness?
Amidst casualty?
It is gratitude which anchors,
gratitude that fathers the ground-
the foundation from which to build your ivory towers,
pillars of light.
And devotion, to the planting of the seeds of goodwill
plentiful and ripening
faster by your graceful nurturing.
It is here that patience and stillness take root. Where action that is valuable blossoms.