Sacred texts rest unopened, patient and without ceremony, on my side table.
I can feel their timeless depth, quietly beckoning to me.
Their wisdom softly calls, drawing me to those ancient pages.
Where words, sharp as morning light
Silently pierce through my open heart.
The writers’ presence lay on each letter,
Between each word,
My reading eyes and lips move, marking the echo of their being.
Sharing these timeless truths.
These truths fly unfettered joining the ground of my being.
It is there that I find that I am one with this wisdom, these words and this presence.
I am replenished,
The day has begun.
Letters to the Universe 