Sunday, April 01, 2012

Your Sunday Poem

From Inner Directions, an on-line journal, a poem by Stephen Levine

Elements of Grace
A Benediction for the Millennium

There is a grace approaching
that we shun as much as death,
it is the completion of our birth.

It is an insistent grace that draws us
to the edge and beckons us to surrender
safe territory and enter our enormity.

We know we must pass beyond knowing
and fear the shedding.

But we are pulled upward none-the-less
through forgotten ghosts
and unexpected angels
knowing it doesn't make sense
to make sense anymore.

This morning the universe danced before you
as you sang --it loves that song!

How odd it is to have this much love
and still not be free.

What terrible fate do we fear
more than losing this heart
shared with all that is?


Alon Perlman said...
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Alon Perlman said...

Online? Does that mean it's free?

I get the sentiment, or rather, I remember the sense of grace settling, which is different than a sentiment or a sixth or a seventh sense.
The poem will need a rereading. A pastiche of philosophies. It is a now and zen thing.
Pastiche in the sense of a quiche or pasticcio di pasta, a lasagna by any other name, quite complete, satisfying.

But the heart that shares all that is, can easily be stepped into. It is (for me at least) only as far as the Sweet springs ponds or the elfin forest groves, or for true entry into enormity, the confines of the dunes.
It is a beautiful April first, just a few light May flowers bringers, looks to be clearing for a few hours. The waves are too gnarly for paddleboarding. I hope you are not reading this NOW, but are out THERE, at least ZEN.