I’ll be honest,
as I saved the spider
from sure destruction
and placed him gently
on the morning sill,
I wondered
if perhaps I’d earned
a bit of karma,
if maybe the gesture
would spare me
the sure destruction
of betrayals —
disappointments.
But everyday humans
don’t bide by karma,
never mind what gurus say,
so the spider went about his,
and I my business for the day
knowing this:
salvation, like love, is random.
Love —
how it sparks like a match
to the smoke of a dying candle
When you move to the beat of a different drum
there’s no cure for the blister that forms from the
dance
dance
dance
There’s no common book on which to lean your fears
no vow that forgives the misdemeanors of heart and soul
The way a fool would do…
Instead, you make a poultice from prayers
to no god and all gods,
a tincture of stardust and make-believe
to cool the heat of betrayal,
ease the disappointments,
and reconcile the little deaths
you know he didn’t mean
Forget the relievers and remedies
for everything that ails you,
just hide the scars with Hope,
kiss and make it better
Love the animals, love the plants, love everything. If you love everything, you will perceive the divine mystery in things. Once you perceive it, you will begin to comprehend it better every day. And you will come at last to love the whole world with an all-embracing love. — Fyodor Dostoevsky
Random Acts 10 