Saturday, January 25, 2014

Birds made of sky

Birds made of sky                                                                                    

slice effortlessly through the ether – no cleaving
upon their approach, no melding in their wake,

surrounded by silence thoroughly,
no residue nor resistance, birds made of sky.

To surrender must be to move through existence
like that – plowing through time’s flow and yet,

somehow, adrift upon it; no mechanics of survival;
coming from nowhere; being taken no place.

I spruce up surrender in my timidity –
display it in the most flattering light.

Human beings need that – ever measuring,
thinking in terms of loss and gain,

getting from here to there, but surrender,
apparently, must be undertaken

for its own sake; for truth’s sake,
whatever the cost or outcome

because it is truth, the only truth
when nothing else but the truth will do. 

O child of God, enter the flow of time
to escape the flow of time.

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