THE MORNING POEM
Whistling Swans
THE MORNING POEM
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Cook Rice, Serve Rice
Sometimes love does not arrive as a grand gesture. Sometimes it is simply a pot of rice, a pair of hands, and someone doing what they can with what they have. Perhaps this is what holiness looks like when it becomes ordinary.
September 11th 2001 : Standing Before The Mystery
The mystery that is vast enough to hold both the horror and the love without having to explain either away.
Contemplation in D-Minor
A quiet contemplation on love stripped of self-importance—love as humility, kindness, compassion, surrender, and the simple recognition of beauty in all things.
Gently Comes The Night
A lullaby for the quiet hours, when the world grows still and night gathers gently around us. A reminder that even in sleep, we are held — precious, loved, and never beyond the reach of love.