The Spirit Door

She comes
More often than we know
Sometimes thumping
Its ways are subtle
Yet these days she thumps
At just those moments
When you hear nothing

Gentle is its door
For the soft are pure
Close to the door
Be ready for the fall
Only the arrogant
Are ever upright

When you fall
She sweeps you up
And raises you
To the seamless cup of life
You cannot see the temple
Or the door
Not even the path
Let go

The one prepared to witness
The lowest to the finest
In him
Is able to walk the line
In between
This line is what we call ‘Human’

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