Grace

Grace does not hold an abacus in one hand,
Tallying worthiness and merit,
Or a Rubik's cube in the other,
Challenging us to “Figure it out”.

Grace knows nothing of such cruelties.

Grace is the power that comes alive
When Attention, wandering without,
Turns within, Journeying inward,
In quest of The Heart's Desire.

Divine Remembrance… a movement of Grace.

From the first awakening of Longing,
To the first turning within,
Through the long, inward trek,
And our vanishing into Pure Being…

Every step… a movement of Grace.

Grace is the power of “Fruitioning”,
Of Seed to Blossom,
Of Ember to Flame,
Of Longing to Fulfillment.

The Seasons of Love… a movement of Grace.

Grace is the gravity of Formless Pure Being,
Pulling our sense of separate existence,
To its Ultimate Oblivion…
And Unimaginable Benediction.

The Beloved's tug on our Heart… a movement of Grace.

The Heart's Unbearable Longing,
And its Absolute Fulfillment,
The mind's Endless Wonder,
And its Surrender to Unknowing.

Longing and Wonder… movements of Grace.

Grace is not a “consequence”,
Of worthiness or merit,
Of conditionality,
Of causality.

Causeless Love… a movement of Grace.

Do we choose to have a Heart
Drunk with Longing?
Do we choose to have a mind
Held captive by Wonder?

Surrender… a movement of Grace.

It is Grace that calls us,
Grace that moves us,
And Grace that sustains us,
Until we Vanish…

In its welcoming arms.