I love the Artist.
The One who paints with every color and shade of Existence.
What a sight to behold, this tapestry of Life!
Beautiful, tragic, grotesque, spectacular, sublime, loving—
please don’t forget the Loving.

Run towards it with wide open arms
and maybe a skip that reminds you of a world once innocent and pure.
A world you held in the small tender bud of your body,
mischievous eyes draped with untamed hair,
and a mind that questioned everything.

But w h y?

This question still falls from my lips daily,
just now with more desperation
…and wonder, too :).

Perhaps innocence and purity are places of no return—
wild meadows that stretch out only in the hearts of children.

THE CHILDREN,

        the children,

              the children,

                    the children beneath the rubble,

                          the children.

Protect the children, all of them,
and heal the wounded one within.

Then the radiance of Grace will be found everywhere.
Patient, not waiting,
just Being, beaming,
carried in on the very air we’re breathing,
happy to turn towards you when you call out its name.

Yes, my Love? I’m here.
Please stay.

I'm starting to see Love everywhere.
If only I could see what the Artist sees—
if only I could behold the Beauty of the Bigger Picture!

Let me start by slowing my breath and softening my focus,
follow the blurred lines between the sharp points of Existence.

What would we see in the places You and I meet?

(written dec24, first performed jan25)