Come to the orchard of sacred imagination

Come, be with yourself

In sounds of the sitar

And orange blossom’s scented sweetness.

Bring your anger and sorrow

Empty them upon the earth, lie down.

Let these be roots for your dreams.

Be still.  Listen to earth’s solace.

 Rise then,

Grown from grief

Stand in greater courage

Asking fear to open you in song.

Did emptiness not teach reluctant fingers to pick

First strings on the lute?

Come now, enter the orchard


Clothed in hope

Abandoned to your dance,

Kneel and kiss the ground.



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