The Corridor

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A glance to the right takes in the snapshot,

Of a soul distracted by the opportunity,

To dive off course,

Down the alleyway,

Exploring the path exposed in a small window,

Off the street,

Of my mind.

 

Now, head turned, should the rest of me follow?

The Pilgrims

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We travel with them not so frequently,

But those days are replete with meaning.

Thoughts of God,

Of grace filled moments,

At a meal together,

Praying,

The silly banter,

And the Silence,

All pours love and grace into the journey.

 

Our pilgrimage endures all things.

Behind the Wondrous Noise

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Behind the wondrous noise,

Sits the instrument, crafted with care by many,

Now not dormant,

But spilling notes in unison with others,

In a way which can be practiced,

But not perfected.

 

The perfection is the mixing of others,

Of those willing to hear a message,

An open mind perhaps,

But an open heart for sure,

Ready to receive.

 

And those sacred noisemakers,

Where, for the moments they rejoice together,

They ascend beyond themselves,

Into some sacred space, reserved for the gift,

A gift only exposed when heard.

 

Here then it happens. Hear and rejoice.