of my broken, shattered, crumbled presence
saving your life.
If my brokenness has lifted you up,
(in secret ways I will never know)
what may my strength do?
 |
| Marianne Stokes |
has come about by accident, through sleep,
what may our willpower do?
Every breath, moment, intent
has to be for the sake of love
there is no alternative,
we do not speak of it,
because it is death.
The strife that is in the rest
the emptiness that is full
of doors to higher regions,
of imperceptible fragrance,
impregnated with possibilities -
yet we are so small and weak
and that space is just a blink,
a breath, a thought, an atom,
narrow and invisible
but the only way to Love.
We fight together
through the torment
we sink together into deep spaces
of compassion, forgiveness
through seeing each other's sadness, uneven fragments
we flow into that silence
soft, rushing with the melody
of our efforts to surrender,
destroy our evil
and the inner slavery and arrive
to a wilderness between us
that is as pure as the first snow.
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