There are those who are a home, it does not matter where they roam.
One enters their life as visitor, when grace intervenes and provides an unclaimed minister.
This soul has been a stranger in this place, and yet the animals are drawn to its pace.
Some familiarity in this gesture, for sure, as if he had been here all along, in procedure pure.
There are hearts as wide as the heavens, where one senses life's weight lessens.
They do not offer instruction or advice, knowing things are fixed by presence of the wise.
A Home so empty, so still in all-Oneness, where the magic love of "I AM" is the soundness.
The subtle Self, in feeling safe, where conscious memory recalls the place.
Serenity of love finds the one in whom to settle, to share precious time, and a kettle.
To sit near for a while, just Being,
without the longing for freeing.
There are those who are a home, take off your shoes and name, for nothing will be anymore the same.
No comments:
Post a Comment