"Meditate like Christ. He lost himself in love."
~Neem Karoli Baba
This is the only Christianity I know:
At the end of each breath,
the death of Jesus.
At the rise of each breath,
the resurrection.
What happened 2000 years ago,
what will happen at the last judgment,
doesn't concern me now.
The sound of a wood thrush
is the end of time.
I am a fallen creature
plummeting into grace.
From what should I be saved?
I was never lost.
Because I am awake
every dogwood
blossom
is the Parousia,
the second coming of wonder.
My teacher is the one
who fills my bones with silence.
She who treasures my soul
as a pang of fire in her heart
will never let me
go.
A womb that could enfold
the burning of
Christ
can bear me.
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