My religion is the wind swept plains, the tea shared on rainy days with wordless joy passing between us. It is the pulse within me which finds the pulse of the universe as I find them the same. My religion has no beliefs but is filled with presence, and a joy that grows ever-bountiful. Like a hermit I live, and every moment with those whom I love grows more precious by the day. 

My heart is filled from a deep well from within as it’s waters never lessen or subside. I do not have to believe anything when what I know burns and flows with a power I just can’t tell. But I do wish the world could know this. But until then, I do the curious things we creatures do and find excitement in the simplest of things. This eternal flame of a presence contents me and rouses me to a new life.

I wish it were true that love is found in another, but this pulse of life that animates my awareness says this is not so. We must find this love first within us if we are to know it in another… for how else could we ever love them rightly, speaking such different languages which we want to call love. No, I must first overflow, be so enlivened and filled that it will ward me off from loves mistaken, loves that seek to take and make others responsible for what we truly each must find for ourselves. It’s been one of my latter realizations that I am here building a vibrant love inside myself so grand that its often hard to stand. But I do, and sigh into deeper folds of its mesmerizing wonder.

I am left utterly stripped of belief, and naked as I am, I am so much closer to the one that animates and guides. Listening quietly, I do wonder that if this is all there is, how grand that I may have just come to it, ready for the consummating kiss that is it’s promise made somewhere hidden in the folds of our bridal chamber.
I do not believe, but I bear the riches of the heart of religion. I have the temple without the priests. It is the deepest and most holy of the mysteries, and it is the only one you ever need to know to see how it alone reveals the rest. She bids me enter her most sacred of mysteries. She shows me where her lover meets her which is in the triadic chamber of my heart. No priests or priestesses, no law, no guess work. No prophets, no holy wars. No hymns, save my warm breath and yearning. No candles, save the flame of it all, and no opinions, no pronouncements in the deep chamber that is my soul knowing itself.

To love that the divine moves in you is no sin but sacred. To know beyond all dogma is a healing hand. With just a glance my whole life opens to it with no eventuality ever being just sheer chance. To honor the love that lives in me is to love and honor how masterfully I was made…and I do hope that you find this soon, too, so we can share Summer’s last fading light with tea and thunderstorms and the honor of pure religion flowing in our hearts.

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