are the smoke the fire gives off as it
absolves its defects, as eyes in silence,
tears, face. Love cannot be said.
*Rumi, Trans. Coleman Barks.
Mystical Poem
*Brian K. Wilcox
There is a Temple
not made by hands.
Such a sanctuary lies Somewhere
beyond spiritual practice.
Not in a heaven, not in a hell,
not up, not down, not east, not west.
When my feet stand at the threshold of that Place
the mind drops its spiritual garb at the door.
Someone said, "Can I come in, my Lord?"
and the echo back cried out in ecstatic Love: "We are already One!"
Here, the saints of all faiths meet the Source
of every stream that speaks of religion.
Hug the moon, if you wish to stay close to reflected Light,
but I will step in Here and make love to the Sun.
Why caress the shadow
when I can fondle the Face?
Eat the grapes ~ indeed, they are tasty ~
but I will lose myself in the Wine.
I hear a whisper ...
"Hush! Brian, before you get in trouble, again, ..."
Those who dance with form
will never dance with This that dances me!
A cloud just went by, I think I'll
ride it beyond where shining stars hint at the Way.
*Brian K. Wilcox, May 23, 2006
Suggested Reflection
What theme do you see connecting the sections of the writing for today? Explain.
See next page for Invitation to writer's contemplative village, purpose of OneLife, data on ordering author's book and upcoming devotionals 2008, and material on citations.
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