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Until we know that each moment is holy,
there will be no hope for us.
We will stumble from falsehood to falsehood,
battle to battle, havoc to misery,
while all around, in every instant,
a shining god, a goddess sublime,
breathes forth in all mystery and magic,
sheathed in the sacred moment
that we but vaguely apprehend
as mere time and space, vapor and ash,
ours to use, abuse, and then discard
in our human-centered way.
But when we know the holiness of time,
the sacredness of space,
and the pure majesty of this holy place
we call our home, then we will know
how blest we are to be here.
Until we know this truth profoundly,
we will have no friends;
all will be conquerors, enemies, and fiends,
out to enslave us, subjugate our beings,
seize our little spot of ground for their own ends,
enshrining foreign idols where ours should sit,
exchanging their names for ours in sacred writ.
But the soul who truly knows the moment
knows all lands as his, all peoples as hers,
a vast holy land encompassing all Earth--
the universe even, perhaps even more.
All eternity is now, and all space is home;
every face a loving friend, a soul mate dear,
and there is no greater gift that life can give
than the miracle of now, the miracle of here,
the miracle of each moment, smiling in its place,
bathing us, blessing us, transforming us,
in the eternal glory of its sacred, saving grace.
Until we know that each moment is holy,
there will be no hope for us.
But when we learn this sacred, holy truth,
we will soar like eagles toward the very gate
of this blessed earthly heaven.
jbs
2/23/02 - 3/10/02
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