There is something about getting lost in an order

greater than any that I can imagine,

like nature or the heavenly bodies or

work or death or a weather storm or

a spiritual family. Yes,

these are great and wonderful

by the moment or

by the hour or the day;

but when that rhythm

becomes a part of the consciousness,

such that each time it is experienced,

it is welcomed,

it is embraced and

it is remembered as

that for which the soul within

longs and there where I am

at once enchanted and saddened;

enchanted that it is mine for a moment;

saddened because that consciousness cannot stay,

except with some faith,

where I am re-assured

that it will be mine when

I am able and permitted to die to it,

such that Its peace can be present forever.

2018.0301.0729 ©

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