On a starful eve
the night before November's thanks,
you wear your priestly robes.
I read some Thich Nhat Hanh.
Your prayers are mostly Western
to Jesus I suppose.
My thoughts are of the Spirit
and Gandhi, a plain and simple man.
While contemplating Mahatma,
I also ponder Dr. King, Desmond Tutu,
Aung San Suu Kyi.
And yes, there are thoughts of Jesus
as I imagine your extended arms now offer praises
to a just and Holy King.
But tonight my heart seeks
compassion,
not miracles, nor parables of
some high and mighty lord.
Compassion.
The humanity inside the God.
"If we have listening ears
God speaks to us
in our own language,
whatever that language be." - Gandhi
On a starful eve.
whatever that language be." - Gandhi
On a starful eve.
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