*photo was taken in the morning in Cluj Napoka when I was in Romania.
Sitting by the curb,
Hundreds walk pass,
Maybe thousands,
Do they have a clue of their miracle?
The seed of infinite.
That vastness.
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Some stroll,
some swiftly make their way through,
Most are in the chase of something,
When everything they seek - is really only a turn within,
I want to look into their eyes,
And let them know the worldly lies,
Could I jolt them into a space, their space?
And perhaps break the news about their sacredness?
Wake them from the dream they seek.
And perhaps birth a silence of rest.
So they never come to miss their grandness,
So they never come to miss God in every moment,
So they never come to miss God moving through them.
