When I look at the clouds,
the fluffy, thick, bright white
clouds, I imagine falling backwards
into that cotton wool castle
in the sky and knowing safety
never known before. Those clouds
to me appear to be the arms
of our Creator, Parent, Maker,
gentle mystery that is, Sacred Love.
Falling thus back in trust, into
faith, into grace, is some splendid
surrender to the paradox of Wisdom,
to giving in order to receive; to letting
go in order to retain; to living
when persecutors, tempters, oppressors
would take my life away.
Mocked though I may be by those
without understanding, I will fall,
I will seem the fool in dreaming
of a castle in the clouds that catches
me in my meditation, holds me
in my resignation, emboldens
me to love, though the certainties
of fear may try to shake me.