The Soul of Things Dusk opens— God’s arms, again today, receiving the Sun, amid the distant clap— of rolling waves, into sound and silent, again. I write. From mid-morning pilgrimage to sea, dried sand and ocean breeze— cling upon my skin; rumi licks in pure delight, salty flavors of vast blue mystery. Precious the crystal, a pattern found— in a single drop of ocean; perhaps, is all the universe really needs— to prove its unimaginable generosity, left for you and me. Involuntary, moments— still breaking, like moon-tide upon the beach, I listen, to silence. Holding our space— in the soul things. by Amy Alcini
Posted on: Thu, 15 May 2014 16:53:40 +0000
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