Altar

       

A few last roses

from your Autumn garden

sharing a table

with your favorite old books.

A little altar

igniting the flame of prayer, 

illuminating your heart

with the silence of meditation,

filling your room, your home, 

your whole day with
the fragrance of gratitude.

A little altar, a fulcrum

where the sun, moon and stars

balance vast turning wheels,

moved by one breath.

Your breath.

Parts of one body.

Your body.

Gathered in one presence.

Your presence.

You don't need to live in a mansion.

A little room is enough,

when you have an altar

where sacred solitude expands

to hug all sentient creatures.

Like a humble chink in a dark wall,

yet a window to the inner Sun,

lifting vast clouds, clearing

a thousand storms…