He is not on a cross…
though he passed through there.
He is not in the Kabala, though
the Kabala is in him.
You can’t find him in a Buddhist temple:
there is nothing in there.
Perhaps in the garden of a Taoist;
perhaps in the slow movement of Chi Gong;
perhaps in the fervent prayers of a Rabbi;
perhaps in a Sufi’s softest song.
Perhaps in the zap of a dolphin’s laugh;
perhaps in a child’s small, most earnest quest;
perhaps in a deed of unselfish care;
perhaps in lover’s eyes while they rest.
Perhaps in an open hand extended.
Perhaps in thousands of worlds without end.
Perhaps in the smile of your enemy;
perhaps in the kindness of a friend.
Perhaps in a way of thinking
that undoes all arrogance of thought.
Perhaps in this coming awakening.
Perhaps at last in all… or else, in naught.
We must be the answer we are looking for… and how can we be that without the free One coming through? Only the free One can make us free. I’m sure of that, though of little else.