Duty to Give

Mown into shape, a high Summer bounds along. I am Earth splattered, Sun baked, remnants of morning dew still clinging about cuff hem and sandal-buckle, and all the while knowing that although each moment is vital and precious, this feeble life-time stands so faintly small against the scope of Time. Up to Light, racing to meet the Book of Time, trees stand steadfast, and throughout their centuries of existence not one moment is wasted, one episode without meaning and worth. What story could I write that hasn’t already existed, that would be better and purer than what is already possible within the Laws of the Father?

An aspect, long simmering beneath those more easily recognizable, has at last found its time and place to come upward. Shifting again I see and nearly shudder to have it crystallized and exposed. A deeper part of myself, something I’ve never found outlet for, though I felt it and its presence pushed swollen against the confines I placed around my living. But, then again, we are all rock stars in the private arena of our minds. Such qualities as excite and surprise me are only what is my duty to give, my bill to Creation. In the garden I find a similar reality: plants do all the work, really, turning soil, water and Sun into life, we just make a little way for them and deserve not really much credit.

I feel how close Purity and Simplicity are, and from them Valor so easily springs, so naturally ignites. A little cleaning inside my being, sweeping slowly away dust until the pattern of the floor can be seen, laid with a design so close to what I had already hoped through much trail and decision-forming. How essentially happy living is, and how terribly beautiful.