Of Endless Becoming

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Christ / Creative / Poetry

I can imagine a life
after this one,
in which I am the same,
but different.
I can sense the timelessness of
the possibility of not ending,
of becoming a long vista of compassionate quietude,
of hearing every Moment
as it arises with simple clarity:
because Love is a seashell
placed over the Heart.

but I can’t remember beginning
or being born
or ever having been anyone else.

along this way,
the being I am today
appeared.  (And now,
is Dissolving
without Ending.)

When I think of Jesus,
His Presence arises within me…
He is recognizable, unmistakable,
a unique color of the heart.
The same may be said for
many beings we know- a departed aunt,
a deceased friend,
the Buddha, Walter Russell,
Mary, Harriet Tubman.
We each have a color
in the palette of

along this way,
Harriet Tubman became herself,
and now,
she will never stop…

Something keeps
keeps Becoming.
It seems as though
there will always
be more of us-
as if we never grow
of the

Are we not the same?
But different?


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