Paul Reynolds

Never doubting its
True perfection

The mirror reveals
A very unique notebook
A cherished volume
That I have chosen to journal in
Today

Skin is the delicate parchment
Organs, bone, joint and sinew
The bindings and spine …

The wonders they beheld
The adventures they shared

Teeth clenched to smile
Head turned to mutter…
“I oughta be writin’ my Own Bible Now” -

Opening to ‘us’ can be so damn uncomfortable.

For as many paths
There are as many

The Heart’s thesaurus

Translators of the language of being

Holy men will give it lip service
Yet they know
They will not enter here

All the while sending out
Tendrils of searching

What more can you learn of oneself through the mirror of another’s eyes?

Much of her education
Was in
The unlearning

The master gathers them

A place where once again I could see….me.

Then an emerald spark
Winked
It had no choice

She sticks pins in your tender spots to see if
“You’re done yet”

Funny isn’t it….
How we’ve chosen to be
Led,

And the song rang out ‘midst the silence of the lodge

Bible, Koran, Kaballah
Only echo it’s holiness

The day before you came
You sat Universe and had tea—

“Is there anything you need of me this time ‘round ?’, you asked.