A common space for harmonic peacemakers

Here are Stations

Here are Stations
by David Sparenberg
2016-08-25

Here are Stations

Here are not stations of the cross. Here is not a pilgrimage to Mecca, or prayer before the Western Wall.

Here are the stations of my soul. A kiss of breeze; a clasp of thunder. Sometimes a fragile, a reclusive seed. I am familiar both with darkness and with delving. Sometimes a falling leaf; a mendicant beside the Ganges; a wanderer on a Dingle road in twilight.

I say hello to you the way I say hello to the sun, the dawn and the midday and the setting. I say hello to you the way I greet a crescent or a harvest moon. I haven’t much to say now, please believe me. I am glad to be beside you here. (Here are the stations of humor, play and friendship.)

I am spilling over in the quiet shadow of this smile. I am touching the epidermis of deep feelings; embracing in a moment imagination of who we truly are and who in time we shall become.

Here are the stations of my love. Here is my pilgrimage to the holy of holies, encircling the circles holding life. Many of the stones in the last wall have fallen. The last of the last someday will float away!