The sadness of it,
the unheard message.
sent over and over again.
How is it possible to miss it?
It calls out to our original self,
the great deep wisdom, the silent
luminous center of our soul.
Quiet....quiet, let the stillness
open, let the stars come
softly down to dance with us.
Look deeply into the eyes of a lost animal,
let the great wealth of compassion flow.
Our real, real heart of hearts, beating
behind masks and locked doors.
Look, there it is again, the child
in a fragile manger, so poor,
with the poorest poor, and the animals.
That's where you find yourself,
your own true, newborn king.
the unheard message.
sent over and over again.
How is it possible to miss it?
It calls out to our original self,
the great deep wisdom, the silent
luminous center of our soul.
Quiet....quiet, let the stillness
open, let the stars come
softly down to dance with us.
Look deeply into the eyes of a lost animal,
let the great wealth of compassion flow.
Our real, real heart of hearts, beating
behind masks and locked doors.
Look, there it is again, the child
in a fragile manger, so poor,
with the poorest poor, and the animals.
That's where you find yourself,
your own true, newborn king.
A lovely poem, Lorna. It ushers in quiet.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and profound!
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ReplyDelete(If you have already received one, which would not surprise me in the least, let me know and I'll replace you.)