Breathe out everything
you are against.
Surrender the argument.
For just an instant
be nothing
in the gentle palm
of desolation
between breaths.
Inhalation, exhalation,
wings of unknowing
that brush up your spine,
ringing each vertebra
like a bell-full of night.
If your heart is broken,
it must have opened
during the darkest hour
before dawn
when you didn’t even know
you were praying.
A Friend must have
touched you there
while you were sleeping.
Enter the wound, the healing
pain, the flower-surge
of yearning in your sternum.
Call it a door, this sacred
black hole between heartbeats
where stars spin from your stillness.
A special kind of darkness
that illuminates the sun,
wonder free from thought.
And it only takes a moment
to turn each cell
in your body to a chalice
of golden fire.
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