Let heaven be the leaven,
the yeast that permeates the bread and urges the dough to rise.
Then let Spirit permeate all beings,
people and plants,
amethyst geodes and ice cream,
whirling atoms in their electron dances.
My whirling Self which yet breathes spirit.
When I turn inward, there is "the still center of the turning world"
When I contemplate an icon made by human hands
When I cherish a small white flower in straggling grass
When I study a face, hoping to draw from memory
A sacred grove
A man-made cave with vaulted roof and carven pillars
An accidental sight of running water beyond a rock,
and roots writhing from soil.
So many havens.
May heaven haven teach the raging hearts that seek domination
May their tears unite us in our predicament.