Kundalini Splendor

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Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Poem by Ivan Granger 




Every Shaped Thing

By Ivan M. Granger
(1969 - )



Sighing,
every shaped thing
turns
heavenward.

Your altar
cannot seat
the thousand thousand
idols.

Holding them,
what do you have?

Each gilded god
says:

"I am
impoverished
by the sun.

I can only
point
up."




-- from Real Thirst: Poetry of the Spiritual Journey, by Ivan M. Granger

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