Barefoot In The Sacred

Step outside the garden door,

fill your eyes with morning light,

your whole body with dawn fresh breath.

Sink your bare feet into the green cushion 

of dewy wet grass, 

your toes tingling with surprise.

In the heart of everything before you,

be still.

You are in the presence of The Sacred.

Castles In The Sky

When I was a child, I climbed walls, just to see what was on the other side, it didn’t matter how high, your friends always climbed with you. We could throw a ball against a wall, or mark it with chalk as the goal posts for a game. Sometimes we just sat on the wall and told each other jokes and stories about the mystery of secrets in the wind.

A wall was just a wall made of bricks. Brick coloured bricks. Brick shaped bricks. Bricks that smelled like bricks. Real bricks.

When I was grown, I built lots of walls. They were like jig-saw pieces with holes where the bits were missing. I made square pegs to fit into round holes in the wall but when I realised that none of them were real, that they only existed behind the walls of my mind and no matter how high I tried to climb, they were only made of paper.

So I built a smaller wall, to sit on while I dreamt about castles in the sky and secrets in the wind.