As a gift sung by an angel on my shoulder,
For our sons and daughters that they should not forget:
The eye’s of God do not see edges.
Despite what many different things in religious texts
or what other books might say.
The very eyes of God do not see edges.
There are not ends of the pages,
there are not periods at the ends of the sentence.
Songs don’t end in the essence of heaven
in the essence of God, notes string into one another.
That many times as it concerns the essence of humanity
individuals are simply trying to complete the work –
to finish the book –
to get it right.
The eyes of God hold a much softer vision then most would talk about.
There are many many different books of love yet to be written.
The love is increasing itself and the fear is transforming itself.
The more and more individuals write the books about love
and they procrastinate about writing the books about fear –
the more the books about fear won’t ever need to be printed.
They won’t need to be.
It is up to us to dissolve our own edges.
We have created a false standard for ourselves,
one that is based on our interpretation of the divine that judges –
rather than a divine that simply loves.
It is here we see conflict in all forms and at every level.
It is within the sudden drive to discover the edge
and fight to attain it
rather than the breath of the song
and the composure of the very note which we utter in our hearts.
Our very essence strives to surrender but our mind and our ego protects us by re-creating one edge after another.
It is re-created because we understand our love for ourselves to be protective rather than the love for each other which can only exist in pure acceptance.
We must all listen to the notes floating around us, waiting to be heard.
For the sake of all the love yet to be written, I beg you,
find your own path to assemble your own notes
with your own song
and share it in your own breath,
with your own kiss,
inside your own wonderment.
And I beg you,
to always remind me, to do the same.