(More) Thoughts on God

I try not to say I know God, that I understand Allah, that the nature of the universe is not a mystery;

but then to myself and in secret I explore the depths and the simplicities in full view of the One who sees the insides of my heart and soul;

and by means of design am provided the tools for excavation.

I scoop up the earth and mud established and concretely cemented, digging for pure, raw reality;

and at some point realize that the slick muck and shining layers are not an illusion.

The hate, the fear, the insipid platitudes along with the hope, compassion and peaceful breath – no more false than the sought for foundation.

All comes from and all returns to the source.

The Weeds Be Kind and Gentle

The weeds be kind and gentle

this first breath of fall

while tearing up around the edges

you return to drink the rain

and wrap the body laying in the ground

so it to can become the rotten longing

fields and orchards tumble into grief

the children scatter to collect the end of a great harvest

to hold it in a jar, preserving the essence of life

because we refuse not to go on

even while the whole world dies around us