No one is illegitimate
No one is inferior
All are imbued with divinity
All are coming to the light
In their own way
In their own time.
All judgments are a way to delay wisdom
When we pay attention
We already know the divine
Because divinity already lies here, there and everywhere
This is too simple for us
As we want it to be
Out of reach
For those who do not appear to be seeking.
Yet, there it is
Floating just within our grasp
And we want it to be special
As if, special is not common.
No, you are not special.
You are only the divine.
Truth – why does it seem elusive?
It seems to be within the grasp of anyone who chooses.
Yet, to the last, it flows through the fingertips
Like wisps of smoke on ether.
We are rejecting the truth that
Begs to be born in thought, speech or deed?
Falling back to the depths of ignorance
We passively float on the wings of the wind of fate.
We feel the pull towards the nape of the neck
Lifted and saved by the brace of gravity
Afraid again to be lifted to what is real
Fear embedded so deeply in our consciousness
It has swarmed and taken over like bees
Building and evolving
Into a hive of unrelenting stickiness.
Stuck, we accept our fate
Marching along in the tasty muck
Barely tasting our karmic creation
Yet we may not see it is the honey of knowledge
And the milk of wisdom.
Many, many, many times
We have journeyed here.
Exploding worlds and burning skies
Are not foreign or familiar.
Destruction and rebirth are
The Story of the Cosmos
Lover of Goats