Breathe out everything
you are against.
Surrender the argument.
For just an instant
be nothing
in the gentle palm
of desolation
between breaths.
Inhalation, exhalation,
wings of unknowing
that brush up your spine,
ringing each vertebra
like a bell-full of night.
If your heart is broken,
it must have opened
during the darkest hour
before dawn.
And what opens is a door.
A Friend must have
touched you there
while you were sleeping.
Enter the wound.
This healing pain,
this flower surge of yearning
in your sternum.
There is no other way
to the darkness
that illuminates the sun
but wonder free from thought.
It only takes a moment
to turn each cell
in your body to a chalice
of golden fire.
~ Fred LaMotte:
https://yourradiance.blogspot.com/
Art: Ekaterina Belinskaya
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