Spiritual experience is a modest woman
who looks lovingly at only one man.
It is a great river where ducks
live happily, and crows drown.
The visible bowl of form contains food
that is both nourishing and a source of heartburn.
There is an unseen presence we honor
that gives the gifts.
You are water. We are the millstone.
You are the wind. We are dust blown up into shapes.
You are spirit. We're the opening and closing
of our hands. You are the clarity.
We are this language that tries to say it.
You are joy. We are all the different kinds of laughing.
1 comment:
I only just noticed this today, Ruth, or at least only just today followed the urge to look further. He was a wonderful poet, whose extraordinary thoughts are framed in the most ordinary words.
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