Those Secrets

2

I often asked myself why I did not love the Earth

Who had made me so tender and imperfect

The secret to living a life well lived?

Happiness was not the goal; it is not a thing

 

But a process, an awakening to loving everything

And you can work a lifetime at the heart

And dream an eternity with the soul

Until your history is swallowed up in compassion

 

And your drama disappears into a

Moist blanket of empathy where you transcend

The ignorance of your own missed opportunities

A savage garden of needs that would convince you

 

In the solitude of an unmarked place

That you are a stark nomad so unlike the unsettled world

Yet in the light of the sun, your body still aches

To be swallowed up into a bigger purpose

 

Your cells still crave the call of other stars

There’s no armor of God or golden goodness

We are the same, mistrustful and at times miserable

By-passers of creation, haunted and hunting for

 

Always something more, further than what we were

All experience is for the drinking of inspiration

A fountain of faces and seconds, of floods and races

And we’re already there; we’ve already arrived

 

We are just always catching up with our own divinity

The world is filled with too much to say

Yet in the end it matters now what we’ve told ourselves

It only matters what we do in our chosen projects of love.

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