Art by Jonathon Earl Bowser
Link at bottom of page.
Such a sacrament, welling forth, Your nourishing freshets -- bringing a sense of new morning to the heart of this hope. Spring freshets flowing... Your wise & friendly Presence ever-present... a renewed zest for living grows the green... blossoms the hope (trillium chalices turning from white to pinking-in-pleasure, blushing from so many caresses of sun alternating with the chill of the nights, still). Scent of arnica mixing with pine in the air... When heaven is in my heart, each wish is heavenly. What *is* Your bounty but heaven-come-to-earth, all earthy? The earthy chalice of a flower is heavenly to *me*. The flesh chalice of my lady's love is paradise enough for *now*... & i *always* want *that* now to go on forever! Memory leaves but fragments of forever in my mind... traces of remembered ecstasies... the infinite zest for living ever-renewing... for when paradise is in my heart, infinity is *blossoming* -- in *me*! But, too, what is infinity but Your own divinity, the ancient flame of Your ever-becoming, wakening within us. At times we feel so narrowed, so constrained, so small, locked into this tiny egoic speck-of-time, like a seed of tomorrow held tight within a milkweed pod -- silken in promise, Your milk still feeding us... ready to be separated from the nurturing womb as the pod dilates & sets us free to whirl & twirl our dance thru a windy atmosphere towards some distant promise far beyond our birthing... Each death is a dilation of Your yoni of dream -- into eternity.