Epistles of Breezes

Thomas McGrath wrote about the bones of his horses whitening the hillsides where he lived, and I wondered what that would mean to be surrounded by bones. There are still places where people do not leave the land of their ancestors. How that must change the relationship to the earth beneath their beds.

asleep
with tulips
and bears –
affection for first
snowfalls

An urgent invitation to share more love, all the love, rises even before our kindled sun. Lakes fall asleep. Geese chase the moon. Yet the epistles of breezes roaming deep in the woods reach my missionary ears. Reclaim the collective and individual purpose of the power in your life. Extend Love and become the Living God. Choose to see the beauty at play by erasing the distance.

One of the can lights in the kitchen ceiling randomly flickers. Sometimes it makes me think of the story of Samuel, stirred by a voice in the middle of the night. He thinks it is the old priest Eli, whom he serves. Yet, when moving to Eli's aid, Eli says, “I did not call you. Next time you hear the call, you should reply 'speak Lord, for your servant hears.'” When the light flickers in the kitchen, I hear no voice but my own. But I know this voice now. It is the voice of I Am, extending Itself naturally to create All That Is.

Accept – allow – acclaim.