Acres of Sunrises Welcome Thee!

Beloved, acres of sunrises welcome thee!

The Tree of Life is infested with so many holes, is weakened by the constant misuse of love. 

Ah, the Tree of Life; so few of us ever reach for the top.  And yet we force ourselves to climb hill after hill, not even dreaming of the mountains placed before us.  So many labor!  How many learn?

A sea of olive trees produces how much pure oil?  A history of a species produces how many heroes?  A poem expresses only so many words.  An idea reflects the gateway to the heart of those who would think.  Where do we go from here?  Do ten thousand pages rife with words equal a lifetime unrealized?  In our every breath is the opportunity for change.

Hold on?  To what? And why?  The embrace of the sun is a lifetime’s richest kiss.  The moon’s caress is the intimacy one seeks from a lover.  Are they not one and the same?  Ponder this.  Why are we born into a world of duality?  Why enhance the separateness that keeps us far from home?  Is it so important to be the individual?  Is it not godly to be a way-shower to the One, the All and the Every?

Thought creates the state of being.  The state of being births the art of becoming. The art of becoming paints the canvas called a lifetime. Brushstrokes of forgiveness temper memories. Do not fear your mistakes.  Experience is malleable. Even here in the garden we must weed out thoughts that otherwise would maim or kill.  Look up, into the depths of your heart.  Want not for less than love.  Notice your thoughts.  Be for a moment in your wholeness.  As one are we all, indeed, thought and word.

The artist separates the preliminary sketch from the tablet and pristine is the new page.  What will you sketch on yours?  Are we not, each and every, artists of the heart?  A creative genius of the mind?  Bold expressions of what most we desire? And what we most desire is love, belonging, at-one-ness and the feeling of home.  We all walk the same pathway home

The art of persecution seems in your time and space never out of fashion.  Perhaps the time has come to change the wardrobe.  Don’t you agree?

Shams of Tabriz