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Opening to "The All There Is"

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  • Opening to "The All There Is"

    "After Reading 'What's In theTemple' by Tom Barret, I consider his question"

    In the secret temple of my heart
    was an alter
    with nothing on it-
    I love nothing,
    the pure potential
    of it, sometimes when others
    journeyed here, I sensed
    they were surprised
    perhaps even sorry for me,
    as if it would be better
    with a lotus of a cross
    or a star or a figurine
    or a photo of someone.
    Or a stone. Always something.
    I tried, in fact, to put things
    on the altar, but
    no thing let itself
    stay. There was a day
    when, in a single moment,
    the altar had everything on it, and by everything, I mean everything-every
    bee, every stick, every plastic bag and beetle,
    every crushed empty can,
    every crumpled shirt,
    every door handle, compass,
    broken thermometer, apple,
    trashcan, tree, everything.
    And it was so beautiful I wept.
    For hours. Oh, the pure potential of it!
    And then, that altar
    was no longer in some secret
    temple in my heart,
    but everywhere. Everywhere
    a place to worship.
    Everything a prayer
    waiting to be heard,
    to be touched.
    And inside, the most beautiful
    nothing, not even an altar,
    which is, oddly everything.
    I can't say how.
    Sometimes, when i'm quiet enough,
    I notice it. Sometimes, when
    I get out of the way, I fall all the way in.

    Poem by Rosemerry Whatola Trommer
    Last edited by DelilahCertifiedSMCoach; 04-05-2018, 09:50 AM.
    www.theaccordcenter.net
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