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Each of us a a temple. Sacred unto itself. Yearning for Love In the discovered union With Divinity

Evening tide recedes,

Drawn into the blissful sea,

Trauma breaks us into pieces, into fragmented personas existing in conflict and the illusion of separation. These personas are like children, who desire so deeply our affection and love, but become forgotten or fostered through repression or distraction. We deny them as our offspring, as part of us. So, they live in the subconscious, abandoned, craving attention, longing to be known.

When they appear within, at the doorway of our waking consciousness, we deny them, so often, in anger. We simply do not want to listen, to see. We are afraid they will hurt us. They cannot be accepted into us, into the self-identity. They are broken. We are not that, we cannot be. They are not us, they cannot be.

We cannot be the child abused by the parents. How could this be? We cannot be the child molested and manipulated by a trusted friend. This isn't right? It's not fair! We cannot be the child addicted, lonely, or suicidal. We cannot be that. We cannot be broken. Everything is alright, isn't it? We cannot be the victims of betrayal and treason. Please, do not let us be that.

Yet, we are; we are the children we exiled as witnesses to betrayal of trust and love. And, though we have denied them as demons and outcasts, they are still ours, they are us.

In some deep place, we know this truth, just because, we do not feel whole. We know that something is missing, someone is missing; we can feel the sorrow of our lost selves longing for recognition.

Something is missing; a puzzle without a piece. Incompleteness.

We begin to see and to listen to a desire for reunion and seek to reunite our fragmented selves. For that reason, we begin to listen to those we denied.

We ask forgiveness. We forgive, without condition. We begin to love our broken self, as our self.

Love recognizes itself in the other as Itself; our fragmented selves dissolve in the union of this recognition. We are Love in every form; shattered or broken, we art That.

All things become simply God to you, for in all things you notice only God, just as a man who stares long at the sun sees the sun in whatever he afterward looks at.

All I can offer is my experience. And even that, Is not mine. It is the waveless wave, Of the Divine.

Borrowed.

You see, I am... And, If you would like to add a descriptor....

That.

I have taken form, To love.

Are children, longing to be loved. Please, do not ignore them. Speak with them and listen for their response. Listen for their pain, longing to be healed, accepted, and transformed in the light of loving wisdom.

Be not afraid of the daemons. They were born of our self. We are the daemons we fear or fight, in forms we have yet to understand. Listen to them, feed them the love they crave...that you crave.

I didn't ask to be born....but did I. I want to say at the very beginning, but there is no beginning, no end....just now. Is it even possible to ask? I was never born, the question is pointing in the wrong direction.

I was never born, for I always am, in the moment, the knowing. I cannot, not exist because existence is my own. I am the glow of life in a sunflower. I am the beating heart of a dove. I am the rotten smell of decaying flesh. I am life. I am death. For in love, I am, with all that is me, is I. I cannot ask to be born, Who would I ask? It is my nature to shine forth as the body, the mind, and the soul.

Love casts no shadow.

It is light without object.

If I live as longing, It is Thy love, Cloaked as my Sorrow.

Nameless Love

I fell in love with you, Before I even knew your name.

I dreamed you, In the distance,