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Posts Tagged ‘what is here’


 
 
And when the gates swung wide and my friend arrived at the palace, the vast grounds were emerald and lush, lined with tropical trees, and a full staff greeted her at the great door where a man led her through a courtyard filled with night-blooming jasmine spilling their sweet scent into the dark, and just outside the door to her room was a large blue pool, and when she asked if it were too late to swim that night, the man said, Madame, the palace is yours. And he gave her a large brass key. Her enthusiasm entered me as she gushed of her rooms, antechamber after antechamber before reaching the glorious bed, the low slung divans piled with pillows. Today, the palace is the red slickrock towers as I drive through the canyons of Utah. The palace is the delirious deep blue trance of clear Colorado sky. The palace is the sharp scent of sage by the side of the road that wraps me in silvery pungent perfume when I stop to stretch my cramping legs. It’s in soft spring grass now growing from desert dust, growing like green praise after recent rain. I have been given the key to the palace, and it’s made of nothing more than the willingness to offer the world my attention. Black call of crow. Subtle shine of low sun on dark varnished cliffs. Low hum of tires on the highway. It’s yours, they all say. The palace is yours. Here’s the key. Receive it. Receive it.

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after years of bowing
at the altar of not-good-enough,
I turn toward the rest
of the world and fall in love
with what is here
 

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