The teacher spoke to us on the way; opening the door to the building climbing the steps to the classroom all the way without taking a breath talking about science, religion and medicine he did not break stride as we entered the classroom for his lecture on body-mind-spirit he kindled in us a fire not to know what he knows but to be who he is. You see, we knew he loved us that is why we loved him, wanted to be like him. He taught a divine spark burst into all that is and all that is, is one all that is, is kin, we are a kindom not kingdom but kindom. There’s no king in a circle of friends. “I call you my friends” he said, “not students in a pecking order, but friends who are free to be mutual and reciprocal and beautiful.”
This morning, I looked over your names, you who subscribe to Holy Poetry, and was humbled that you give me the gift of your time. I offered a prayer with the hope the poem does some good.
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