One

This has been the

spring of seven winters.

I have kept count while

knowing the numbering

of things is an exercise of

dull habit or perhaps something

more afoul at the level of the

spirit. Each morning I ask God to

rise with me enchanted in

just one small part of the

world, so I can leave the

counting to the harried and

the vexed. When I find my

mind enumerating, I go back to

One. We should possess our

freedom while awaiting

the infinite to resume its

original unbroken

unity.

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