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Until we know that each moment is holy,
there will be no hope for us.
We will stumble about from falsehood to falsehood,
battle to battle, havoc to misery,
while all around us, in every instant,
the luster of the divine
shimmers forth in all mystery and magic;
sheathed in the sacred moment
that we but vaguely see
as mere time and space, vapor and ash,
ours to use, abuse, and then discard
in our small and self-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.
The fortunate soul that knows the sacred moment
knows, too, that all lands are his; all people are her own;
knows, deep inside, that all eternity is now, and everyplace is home,
and that there is no greater gift in life
than the miracle of now, the miracle of here;
the miracle of each moment, smiling in its place,
blessing us, transforming us, bathing us
in the eternal glory of its sacred, saving grace.
jbs
2/23/02 - 12/28/03 – 1/20/08
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