I
It started out as an ordinary walk;
my typical sleep-walking.
Then I woke up
and my senses shifted dimensions.
A gentle voice teasingly asked,
“Do you see what I see?”
And then the veil lifted.
II
Every tree leaf
became a portal,
beckoning me
into the Beyond.
III
Every breath I took
was inspired by Ruah Yahweh,
inviting me to rebirth myself
again, and again and again.
IV
Every firm footfall of mine
touched the belly of Gaia,
the mother who gave me life,
and food, and clothes, and a home.
V
Every shallow little puddle
became a mirror of the sky;
showing me the heavens miles above me.
VI
Every daffodil
Became the golden chalice of the Last Supper.
VII
Even a fallen, long-dead, rotting tree trunk
became a sapling that once waved in the wind,
as he walked the dusty roads of Galilee,
speaking of the Father
to the God-hungry peasants.
VIII
Every plodding donkey on the way
thought nostalgically of the time
when he bore the fleeing family into Egypt
and later
the triumphant Messiah into Jerusalem.
IX
Every cloud
became the Veil of Veronica
cooling his fevered brow,
on the long, painful journey to Golgotha.
X
Every large stone
became a brother of the one
which afforded Jesus
the privacy of the tomb,
making it a “Thin Place”
for three days,
as he readied his body for resurrection.
XI
To each, as I encountered them,
I silently intoned,
“Namasté.”
For what is Namasté
but the recognition of the resurrection
in each one of us,
the awakened and the sleeping alike?
Whether
donkey or human,
breath or cloud or stone,
puddle or footfall,
tree trunk or tree leaf or daffodil.
XII
There is no such thing as
an ordinary walk.
Image by Markus Distelrath from Pixabay
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