Wednesday, July 25, 2018


Look for the grain of truth
In everything, in every moment, everywhere;
Keep all your senses open,
And your heart alert;

Declare this search to be your mission;
Make of it your guide and staff,
And don't despair if what you find is 
Small and cold, wind-torn and bare:

The grain of truth is a survivor from the space
Preceding time; it is a trace of what once was
Whole and mighty,
Witness to the fabled good.

And if you hold this grain of truth cupped in
The hollow of your outstretched hand,
Give it air, let it breathe, taking care
Not to crush it in your grasp;

Nor yet let fear of its fragility
Beggar your belief, tempting you to hoard
Your find, to hide or fetishise it
On an altar in the dark;
But offer it instead to the rain, to the sun, 
Place it in the earth where it can sweetly
Swell and sprout and multiply
Into a head of corn, a field of wheat,

A swathe of fertile, singing green:
Be like the sages sitting lotus-like and open-palmed, 
Faithful to the knowledge of the bounty 
That a single grain can yield.

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