Evolution

Let the heart be moved again: by the green hills, the grass whistles, willow huts, and pillow forts of our childhood—our spirits flaring through our skin like beams of unassailable possibility.

Let the heart be moved again: that first kiss under starlight, this shaft of mote-filled light streaming through a crack in the garden shed, these songs of white-throated sparrows, black-capped chickadees.

Let the heart be moved again: by the symphony of a wide river in a warm rain; on lamp-lit bridges our upturned faces, diaphanous, expectant, unfinished, relentlessly longing.

Let our hearts converge anew: in the mystery of the ever-near and the ever-more, in the incomprehensible depth of our interrelated lives, incarnate, divine, dying and rising, transforming.

Let our hearts converge anew at such a time as this: these evening years, this darkening age, these unstinting losses, our deep separations, borne of fear, borne of violence, our current breakdown making way for a breakthrough.

Let our hearts converge anew in the cosmic reality of spirit and matter, entangled in Love, through Love, by Love, the sum of Love: to mop a floor, to feed the poor, our true business—being less for the sake of another—our surging wholeness; and to all, beauty and dignity, to everyone a name and a history.