the White Stone - Page 103

the White Stone
page 103
The touch of the Almighty is soft,
the blessings of heaven fall like
crystal snow and they rest gently
on this beautiful land.
We can taste Her sweetness on our tongue,
the Spirit that is ever giving.
If we could just get this joke then
we would be laughing with the Buddha.
The Buddha of a thousand lives
who is forever kindness.
We would be sitting with Him beneath the tree of life,
and we would laugh together
and consider the great absurdity.
Why did we think it had to be grand?
That there would be angels and demons fighting in the sky?
Who filled my head with these tombstones of Glory?
This great heavy ball and chain?
Where great shafts of light split the heavens open?
Blazing choirs and trumpets?
The Lord is quiet.
The throne of God is a simple moment that exists without time.
Why did we think it always has to be big? Is this the only testament that we have
to greatness? Is that really all we are able to understand? Magnificence? A jealous
God that requires the destruction of His enemies? That delights in war? For
whom we build great temples in glass and steel and stone? Whose spires reach
into the sky? For whom some poor beast must die in sacrifice? Marble lobbies
and golden statues? Is this how we measure greatness?
We are born to love and gentle companionship. The small things are lifted. The
proud things will fall away.


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