Someone created the earth
so that we could say
"Thank You."
Angels are not this lucky.
They serve without choice.
But you may freely take
the form of the bee
or the rose,
the seed or the furrow.
You might
become
a flame, a wick,
a nipple or a baby's lips.
You could be wine or the cup,
a stranger at the door
or the host who says,
“Come in, friend,
drink, get warm,
then tell me your name.”
The part you play in
this world doesn't matter,
as long as you dissolve
into a golden arrow
shooting upward,
a breath
returning your portion of Light
to
the fountain of stars.
Annunciation by Simone Martini
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