spring

Dusty cobblestones glow in the darkness
I walk out thinking the moon is illuminating them
but the sky is only pinkness
A city engulfed in its own smog and light
Red sky prophesies say this is the end of days
A lone frog singing says the days will last
Outside I am overcome
Inside I am too big for my own cage
Shining intensity at my own smog
It glows too brightly
to see the moon
or stars beyond
I wait for a shift
For things to end
Or for a miracle
that will come
and clean everything
Like the rain
the frog is calling

Hope and fear cannot occupy the same space. Invite one to stay.

Wild winter winds depart
in a final, dying howl.
Blackbird returns, a red-winged
oracle of spring,
announcing new life and renewed light,
shimmering with possibilities
of ever-circling Hope.

Compassion takes practice to flow freely from the heart.

It is in deep solitude that I find the gentleness with which I can truly love others. The more solitary I am, the more affection I have for them. It is pure affection, and filled with reverence for the solitude of others. Solitude and silence teach me to love others for what they are, not for what they say.

We can do no great things, only small things with great love.

This is what our love is —a sacred pattern of unbroken unity, sewn flawlessly, invisible inside all other images, thoughts, smells, and sounds.

People are too heavy for you? Do not carry them on your shoulders, hold them in your heart.

If you want to be a rebel, be kind.

The heart is like a garden. It can grow compassion or fear, resentment or love. What seeds will you plant there?