Courtesy: Google Image
“Hell is empty
And all the devils are here.” – The Tempest: Act 1 Sc. 2
Thus spake the Bard.
I try to seek holiness
in butterfly wings
gilded by sun-dust;
in rippled pond
where a heron meditates
on one leg for a fish;
in needle billed sunbird
that sweetens its life
from a saintly lemon blossom;
in lotus words
gathered by the truth-seekers
through the ages.
Any day could be a holy day
only if these MOAB-y Dicks
would return to where they belonged.
Posted for Susan’s Midweek Motif Holiness / Holy Day @ Poets United
sumanar/lekha 