You know what the mystics
say – don’t look forward
to anything but who can
live hopelessly as that?
Who owns a bible where the
list of begats
are as dear as the shalls listed
in the beatitudes?
Plowing the fields equal to
crucifixion and resurrection?
Every motion and emotion, thought
and word
holy, essential, singular,
irrevocable and worthless.
I mean, priceless,
matchless, every paramount moment
and the appreciation of it
the mystics tell us, is
loving God.
O child, you must
encounter
your Father through the
heart.
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