April 2021
Trust is the lubricant. Doubt is the brake.
We know this road, we have walked it forever, but we have lost our trust—and by that, our wisdom. We have forgotten who we are. We think we must let go of the hand of grace and take control ourselves. We forget that helping hand. We think we become the lonely spot of the ego. We live in solitude. We live in pain. We know deep down that our source is peace and oneness. This unbearable contrast drives us to despair. We begin to look for a fix for this pain. Just a short relief. We find something that gives a temporary joy. A temporary fix.
Who do you think I am?
Who do you think I am?
I am the iciness inhabiting winter winds beating against your door
I am the heat sitting still in the dancing flames of your sacred fire
I live inside the resonance of large brass bells you ring to appease the gods
I am the timid hint of fragile pink in a white rose petal you place at my altar
I am the deep inkiness standing vigil behind the violet of your flowing ceremonial garb