Om Shanti

In the mountains the snowflakes meander through yellow

brick terraces, enlighten the early morning.

God is here.

The Christians greet Him on the hill above.

Three crosses and daffodils speak of Resurrection.

The Pagans in the valley dance Her names.

The Snowdrops and Crocus titter and tease.

The Hindu chant and rise with their voices.

Namaste, Namaste, Namaste.

Islam and Jewish greet each other with Salem.

Peace at last.  Peace.

On this land we all abide.

On this path where we hang the flags of our preference.

What a colorful neighborhood!

Now Violet, now Bee Balm, now Buttercup.

The shades of difference decorate the houses.

How we choose to see the One.

How we choose to see the Many.

When we open our eyes at dawn,

or later when the Sun God sleeps,

we know each other as Children

on a great and powerful adventure.

In this place, Heaven, Earth, Above, Beneath,

Side by Side on our way to the summit or down

where the creeks converge to a great pool,

the mirror we step into on our way to Bliss,

to Yes, to the Emerald City.

In this laurel palace of twists and turns

and curling leaf, of haunted forest

and bright summit,

we know each other

we know each other

we know each other

as God.