Having loved enough and lost enough, I am no longer searching, just opening. No longer trying to make sense of pain, but trying to be a soft and sturdy home in which real things can land. These are the irritations that rub into a pearl So we can talk awhile but then we must listen, the way rocks listen to the sea And we can churn at all that goes wrong but then we must lay all distractions down, and water every living seed. And yes, on nights like tonight I too feel alone, but seldom do I face it squarely enough to see that it is a door into the endless breath that has no breather into the surf that human shells call god.
Nov 20, 2024

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