DING DING Contemplate this.
DING There is an ordinary bliss that rests just below the surface of life.
That is deep blue and quietly expansive when we dwell in moments of startling beauty that we so often pass by.
DING When you sing with your eyes closed,
Standing alone in your kitchen,
And your voice flows from your heart without artifice,
Without constraint,
The universe listens,
Spellbound.
DING I am grateful for the humble miracles,
The quiet ease of dawn and first bird song,
The startling explosion of fruit in the mouth,
The unnecessary fragrance of oranges,
The stubborn virtue of weeds,
And all the profligate generosity of the earth.
DING One day we will meet together somewhere in the wind,
The heart ascent below our feet,
The rocks upon which we were once wounded far beneath us.
We will be unafraid somewhere in the wind,
The darker things cannot find us here,
And we will laugh that we were such children.
We will be made new somewhere in the wind,
Our eyes warm,
Our arms open,
Forgiving and forgiven,
The small things that weighed us down left behind.
DING When love finds you,
It will set you aflame,
Befriend the fire,
For though you may endure burning,
By this you will be forged,
The steel is heated and beaten on the anvil,
But given life.
DING We are all lame,
We are all scarred,
We are all wounded,
Blessed are the tender-hearted who know that they are,
And recognise their bruises as metals.
DING Our words are bridges of air that one heart may cross to another,
They are fragile and unsteady,
Swaying in the breeze,
They are crudely made from cast-off lumber and lashed together carelessly because they are thought temporary and therefore unimportant,
Unworthy of our loving attention.
But across them the treasures of our hearts will brave the chasm and all the rocks below,
Frankincense and myrrh on the backs of mules with dusty feet,
As underneath those rude timbers groan and creak in protest.
DING A seed will crave the light and the air which it has never known,
The yearning of its heartfelt hope will push aside the stone till bursting from beneath the sod and asking for the sky,
This fragile thing will claim its right,
Just like you and I.
DING One day there will be celebration when we surrender our certainties and lay down our fears and allow everyone their freedom to flourish in whatever manner they choose and we will give thanks for the gifts of those who are different to us.
DING Life is enough,
Alone or in company,
Productive or reflective,
Recognised or unknown,
Life is enough.
Contemplate all these things in your heart.
DING
