In this time of individuation.
Fast track.
Everything in a pack.
Where the will to getting what one wants
has constellated a concrete mix,
fixed itself upon our shores.
The forgotten,
the soooooo much forgotten
is tapping loudly on our doors,
asking our remembering to remember,
who we are,
where we are,
to go beyond our tiny lives
remembering we don’t own the sky,
we are the passers by who care,
who know we are made of greater things
than limbs or muscle, made of something
beyond what learned knowledge says.
This remembering wants to be remembered.
Wants to have a say.
Hearts crying.
Souls aching to exist
swirling in a mist of chaos as the falling apart
of worn out ways brings dismay every day.
And the good news is –
it’s bringing people to their knees
as the up movement of a new way dances,
inviting us to gather for a marriage
made not in heaven, but on earth.
A new moon rising in remembrance
of knowing we are made of something
beyond what learned knowledge says.
We don’t own the sky.
We are here to care
in our passing by.
In This Time of Individuation
2005 ©