Nominate your favorite Spiritual Poetry

 
This mystery  
  without beginning or end or dimension  
    which surpasses our time-bound, embodied understanding –  
Explain it however you must:  
  with the logic of your mind  
    or the intuition of your heart –  
as long as you never presume  
   certainty.  
 
Embrace the miracles –  
  sunlight to sugar,  
    water to wine  
Stardust or holy breath –  
  whatever helps you grasp  
    the wonder of creativity  
Whether it’s that  
  big bang of the spirit in a virgin’s womb  
    or an atomic dance from the mouth of a lion;  
what ultimately matters is that you’re  
  open  
    to  
     astonishment  
that you sit at the edge of the veil and  
  listen to the whispers  
    that speak the abundance of love;  
through sacrificial blood  
through mycelial networks  
through enlightenment beneath a tree...  
 
Tell the stories that keep wonder alive in you  
  and let others tell theirs --
    who cares where (or if) they’re written.  
Go ahead and lean on your own understanding,  
  realizing it can only take you so far  
 
You can call it by any name  
as long as you know  
that harmony is real,  
and you sing an essential part in it.
 
.

(nine of 30 - Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2020)
 
i have been more than ready
i know because  
 
the stars look like
street lamps, lighting
 
yellow tails of comets
black holes biting
 
my way out of  
befuddled expanse
often driving me into
a dark astrophysical
place where I know  
is not my home
 
but the hub of my
distress.
 
with my path now
illuminated &
mapped out  
i can swap
illusion for ascent
to the multiverse
 
my celestial
sanitorium
awaits. . .
 
 
__________________
#NaPoWriMo2020
70 words    
58 unique

 

                         Dire Henry  
          hammers                 everything north or
south
or east of west............the clink/clang
heard hours away
                portraying the dominance of
        man
over god                just as she/he and every
                                                                  thing.

Forget god. Yes forget.
make'up a little dance of your own.
For whatever it's worth.
Like the Centennial of the Sandohog's labors
               bringing billions'o gallons
               of crisp waters to suffering NYC,
          (Crown Jewel of the Hemispheric North.

And the labor's labor on and on,
the tricks as visible as the trash site
                        of the local trashing.

There's no relative truth that goes wit
       this hunger, but the dance may be
        an able posture of
                         possession, of
                               potential , of
                                  the process of
of seeing the relative of a  blessed, wholly invaluable ,
             state of stillness , taking it's time,
                                                            as is fulfilling, knowing
                knowing the constancy on poeting
                            the state of this overwhelmed mind,
             settling for the action of no more,
                                                                 for now'ever.


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        2012  feb   21  ~    dkzk, LLD       poetics,+ (badfotos