Blowing On The Ember

I only write of this Unfathomable Mystery,
This Radiant, Sublime Inner Presence,
To bring it to Remembrance in the hearts
Of weary souls who have somehow Forgotten.

To blow upon that ember glimmering,
In the darkness of despair,
And pray, with all of my Heart,
That words, imbued, will ignite that ember.

If that ember is already alight and Shining,
Then I write to rouse the Wild Dancer within,
In Celebration of Love's Intoxicating Delight,
From words soaked in that Wine.

Oh, and here is the secret of Love I have found…
That Loving more, more Love arises,
And Blessing more, more Blessing's flow,
In an Endless River of Benediction…

Flowing not to, but from the Ocean of Grace.

Behind, within, these many words,
An Ache both Sorrowful and Beautiful,
For the Liberation from Suffering of weary Hearts,
And their Benediction, their Illumination with…

What word could I possibly use?

I'll use the word that always gets me in trouble,
The one so horribly taunted and abused,
But Understood by those in whom it Shines,
Even if only as a faint glimmer…

Love.