With my little boy playing roughly together,

Making great piles of white pillows on the bed

Throwing him up in the air to land upon,

In the laughter, the snatches of eyes in eyes,

Holding him in my arms before the next flight

I wanted to stop, strangely, just for a little time,

To introduce myself to him again.

As if we’d just met inside that moment.

Hi darling…It’s me.

I come back, year in, year out, to a single spiritual message, seemingly worth sharing at least with myself. And the message is not a call to inner action but rather a simple piece of good news.

The infinite is available, excessively so.

Somewhere between the idea of it

And the saying of it

Truth dodges

Trumps

Looking down along the pavement

Damp forests within the cracks

Whole small seas in the gutter

Big enough though to hold the clouds above

Yet again, late again

Wet himself

All over his world.