Primitive

Here is a story

of redemption,

taught to me

outside

through many visions

as I have walked among dogs.

I am often guided to

become an ancient one, like

some Nordic tribesman reading the

flight of geese as the

harbinger of all the

great disturbances

of the north.

I have learned to

gauge the hour by the

pitch and bearing of sunlight.

I have come to know the

seasons by the perennial

visitation of birds.

Through trials with the

elements of earth and

ego I have learned that

mine is the simple work of

caring for what is placed

before me and for whomever

crosses my path.

My fences are strong but my

gates swing wide and easy.

My tabernacle is constructed of

open sky and the ground is of

one Soul through whom

all there is

rises in holiness. In

my walkabout, my

body is inspirited, and my

mind knows of darkness and

and wonder like peace between

once contentious brothers.

I eat when I am hungry and

I speak when I have listened well.

I have learned to honor the

many ways of unity and

beyond a peace with death,

I have relinquished my

weapons of war.

There is birth,

there is journey, and

there is home, each step

unwinding out of the

love that infuses

matter with spirit.

I know no other way to honor

the unraveling of complexity,

the slaying of vexations,

the search for better questions,

the healing of old wounds, and

the abandonment of faithless procedures

than to keep it

simple.