Many things exist in the sacred realm of the holy. It starts with habits held high, followed by cows, mackerels, crap and rollers. For many nature is the holy grail though when it comes to being properly responsible for the holy and sublime, we think of God and his heavenly and earthly helpers, the angels and the saints. Then there are those to whom nothing is sacred and their meeker companions, the sanctimonious, who only act as if. Most of us would like to be at least a little holy, the holy and the whole being siblings. Except for a few libertines, who feel compelled to be as unholy as possible at every turn. Holiness cannot be purchased, wholeness only approached. Ultimately, we have to measure ourselves against ourselves: How whole am I? Will we ever know?
A reflective winter season to you!
Susanne G. Seiler
Winter Poem
once a snowflake fell
on my brow and i loved
it so much and i kissed
it and it was happy and called its cousins
and brothers and a web
of snow engulfed me then
i reached to love them all
and i squeezed them and they became
a spring rain and i stood perfectly
still and was a flower
Nikki Giovanni