Beloved Earth, ancient dreamer, keeper of bones and stories—
We, breath in your body, stardust in your veins,
Come before you with hearts both broken and burning.
In this time of the Great Turning,
When despair and possibility dance in the same holy darkness—
May we offer ourselves as imaginal cells in your metamorphosis...
May we be scattered like spores,
Each carrying a fraction of the future,
Each vital, each necessary, each aflame
With particular purpose...
May our courage rise to match the magnitude of these times.
What is all inclusive cannot be limited to form. Love does not choose . . . the moment of its expression. Love extends to all at all times. Love is without conditions; that is to say, without form. . . . When you establish conditions on love, you experience the conditions, not the love...the form, not the content. Love expresses only through an open heart.