Ring of Salt

there's a storm out there,
where bodies prowl
over haunting shadows,
scrounging
for a flicker of light -
anything would do;
while deep inside
in a temple,
circled
by a ring of salt,
a lamp burns
unattended,
standing
in an eternal stillness
that feeds its bowels,
where a fire
gives birth
to itself,
preserved
in the salt of the earth.

The Temple

and people come
and they leave,
stepping inside
this world
within worlds;
bringing flowers,
many offerings,
soulful songs,
gratitude,
and prayers;
and while I watch
from the fringe,
hearts laid to rest
upon the stone,
they leave behind
and take with them
what they've been looking for -
the pulsing silence
that never left their folds.

Don't build walls for me...

don't build walls for me -
my home is a temple
where people of all faiths
find their way,
when they stop looking for me
in one place, in one moment;
for how can an infinite space
ever-growing, ever-changing,
be contained in a meagre cup?
don't build walls for me
when you know
that no matter what,
I can burst forth with an embrace
that can engulf the Universe;
when you find your way to me,
dropping your garb, naked and free,
you will find the succour, the haven,
that waits within, in me.