Friday's Passing Fancy/Poem: A Small Incantation for Restoration of Goodness

These reminders of the old ways come forward-

so long have we been arriving from Spirit,

how long has the world been turning, teeming–

and the promise I feel beneath my feet

where the heart of a planet yet beats

and we creatures all who live and die

amid dirt, mineral, insect,

moss and vine, the tides that turn,

taste and hear and see. Feel at one.

I seek more courage, my Mother, my Father.

Here are earth, air, fire, water, ether,

a map, a memory of greater things,

our place to become wise, to create, offer love.

Wings and trees that hold up the infinite sky,

every light woven with every dark,

stars combusting, planets revolving:

these that honor flesh, bones, blood

in accordance with the design,

a life made sacred for wayfaring,

a chance for knowing and unknowing.

Ancient callings rise to the present,

on blessings of rain and bright wind:

May there be a vast undoing

of these maladies which grip us in

this time and circumstance where

reckless want devours need and the needy

and power blasphemes humanity, numinosity,

and mind and spirit shrink back

though God-in-all abhors all ways of hate,

and yet– waits, waits for us

to kneel, to speak and sing out, stand up

rekindle the fine cosmic order,

as you and you and I do become

braver. Truer. Ever good.

We are just this far from the All Divine,

closer than dared believe,

we are star filament, souls afire.

May we remember, our Mother/Father,

as we labor. Seek. Transform.