Tag: Sands

Fire dance

WordPress Daily Prompt: have you ever performed on stage or given a speech

Yes, I have performed even my Tefillah* on stage & ones in streets & inside my teeth.

Ma would weep.

For me praying used to be racing sandslopes to where the sun was still in grey waters waiting to give me gold:

a gold that took everything,

It still seeps my tides of Will & Time: a refining Fire mill.

Later I saw grown ups pray / rocking at walls, then walk away; but do watch when a Prayerer sways: each sway is a flame that is given away, not necessarily warming only the Prayerer.

***

Yeah though shhhhlisten I have the deadliest condition : unanswered prayers. These mutate at Change;

I do not wait for You, God, for togetherness’ sake, my Asking only dictates!

Forgive me, Abba

I’m returning, racing to where You wait, like the silence of the sun, unchanged.

I’ve seen too much to dismiss the Dawn that brought me here: my best Tefillah is yet to be

where Abba burns the dark to dance with me,

in the firemill that changes the Asker.

***

*Tefillah : Hebrew. Outpour of heart, in Presence of the Almighty.

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I respect you..

…your time here, your life; it maybe far different from mine, yet here for a breath we meet, brothers / sisters in a time like ne’er before…

I respect that your presence, your heart is the physical manifestation of God; we are so alike, we are different but alike in ways too many to not remember. I respect that we walked this year together, torn, mended, healing, broken, like dawns and dusks, we like oceans and shore lines .. crashing building castles; our prints settle in an earth in a time we will never forget. We may never meet but we have, here, now, this new day. And I stare at these lines that spill me to a person I might hear from, I might not. I stare at all this with respect.

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A Planet full of Pile

I saw this Photograph in DAVE’s brilliant Blog PHOBLOGRAPHY , and it drew me right in! Thank you so much for the inspiration your work always brings.

Photo Credit

PHOBLOGRAPHY
……

How many footprints are we, how many miles, how many stories writ or half made, waiting, stalled,

how many lanes are we, bylane – gullies, routes, detours: how many doors have we done, thresholds; how many

shores laced with each others drift: how many piles of chatter, players of games in the sands we walked, how many grains of day and night, how many clusters of seconds, of hours:

how many stacks of us, strangers together, like a planet full of pile.

….

@raylarn