Wednesday, July 13, 2022



We are breaking into pieces,

without Soul’s backbone,

to hold it all together.

Crumbling into sad, small bits

of almost being, where we

can no longer identify the

shape of who we are, let

alone who we should be in

this pockmarked form of

creation without Self.

Where Spirit weeps dark 

tears, at the soft mound of

shredded becoming and we

wait, to touch, the outstretched

hand of love which is forever

held in offering to firm Spirit,

as eternal connectedness. 

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