The Burning Bush Burns





I come across strange drawings of unknown critters 
while vacuuming under the sofa and paste them
in my journal.

Twenty years later I come across them again 
surrounded by words that I have written:
abandonment, emptiness and loss.

Somewhere between the drawings and the words
I can find the meaning of the paradox resting
among all the expressions of the divine.

And then, in fullness, completeness, accompanied
by depth and variety, I can slowly remove my shoes
and turn to see how the burning bush burns.

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