'Thou art That'

No holier temple than my own skin

No light so pure than that within

Thy rivers flow forth throughout my veins

Thy love showers like cooling rains

Pagan rites and Heaven’s mysteries

Play their songs in holy miniseries

Buddhist chants and Shiva’s dance

Unveiling petals,  pure consciousness

I pine in pain O’ Lord of Love

In obeisance I yearn for the throne above

Why O’ God must I fritter my time

Coiled I am in muck and in slime

Why can they not see O’ God, my own kind

In essence, in truth, we are but one mind

My heart, may it be inflamed by this truth

That Kether, thy crown, is really Malkuth

Thy face shown in rippled water disturbed

Shattered and scattered, clarity obscured

Be still child, and know I am God intact

The waters stilled, vision cleared, thou art that