“Open the door to the spontaneous child,”
cried a bird passing over head.
The scholarly man gazed into the white sky
and saw nothing.
“Open the door to the wild child!”
the bird cried out again.
Startled, the man spoke back,
“And where shall I find this child?”
“Within the free waters that run,
and down amidst the ashes, underneath the stones,”
came the answer.
“And where are these waters to be found,
and what are the ashes, and where the stones?”
shouted the man, lifting his hands to the sky.
The air stung him with silence…
May we wash in the luminous pool
of God’s dream.
May we be immersed not into a religion
but into a holy dream
and fall back naked
into the dreamer.