Where your life is concerned,
you can know the sun setting over fog-draped mountains,
and dewdrops gleaming in fresh moss,
and the minty kiss of cold, moist pine air,
and the roar of the emerald river below the high bridge,
swollen with rain and anxious to mate with the silver sea;
You can know the dark shade of winding lanes,
and orange mushrooms against redwood stumps,
and the lone crimson heart of a leaf hanging over a lost cliffside,
and the exhaling ease of it all, the silence in your own spaces,
which has called out for these things and the places they occupy.
Over and against your day-to-day scramblings,
which by themselves create no lasting meaning—
not without these.
Not without this.
Your soul is this.
Enter within or enter without. It's all worship.
From For It All