The Hem Of The Holy Garment...
we who speak as if we knew,
still jump at shadows in the night.
stopping for prayer and crossing ourselves,
reciting scriptures with trembling hearts.
or sit crosslegged on our debit cards,
for a dose of enlightenment.
or walk behind teachers as if we were sheep,
praying to be delivered from the battle.
god is not god,
god is more than that.
cannot be bought by ritual or repitition.
enlightenment hath no debit card,
and sheep are led to slaughter.
the path must be walked,
the battle must be fought.
the soul's questions cannot be answered
by anyone else.
the truth is much broader than our concepts,
and we are more than our egos.
the cost of life is living,
no one else can pay the bill.
the meaning of life is then love,
and love demands all without reservation.
each moment is eternity.
redemption must be had together.
the truth that sets us free,
begins in the heart and moves through the hands.
we are not seperate...
all that lives is a part of the whole.
when the hand hurts the feet must suffer,
when the eyes are taken, the ears must lead.
god is not a noun, but a verb....
always there, in every face, in every leaf,
in every river, in every tree.
when we see with our hearts we know this,
and now our feet must follow our hearts!
we are the prayers of holiness,
the flesh and bones of compassion,
and miracle....
we touch the hem of the holy garment,
when we reach out to those in need!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
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