February 21, 2008

Nothing Else

Years ago I had this vision
of a heart carved in wood,
the markings of the blade visible in its surface.
And I knew then
that all things
of any value
are those that come
from the heart.
Even if everything went wrong
and my life fell apart,
as it did when I was small,
I would still have my heart,
and a chisel,
and an impelling force to demonstrate
that the universe
is a good universe,
that the god
to whom I called in that darkness,
could hear me as clearly
as you do now.
And that there would come a time
when it would be my time,
when I would let my light shine,
when shame
could no longer bind me.
So when the time had come,
I began.
From the beginning to the end,
which is also the beginning,
the wood yielded
to the sharp edge,
to the crisp removal,
of things unnecessary,
to the discovery within
of the sweeping curves
of imperfection.
To the discovery within
of the dimpled forming,
solid ground
of my center.
To the discovery
of my process,
my process of unending unfoldment.
As I lay myself down,
as I lay myself before you now,
there is nothing else to me.