It is the place where you meet God.
Where you allow the silence
a whispering diety needs to be heard.
It lives in the breath you bring,
the open spaces in your heart.
The place does not matter,
except to you.
About this poem.
It is in the middle of a day that has had my routine sort of blown apart. I am sitting in a coffee shop in Bennington, Vermont, having just spent time reading the bible, and meditating over a cappuccino (yeah, that’s a thing.).
I have a weakness for gothic churches and cathedrals. For whatever the reason, I feel God’s presence in the interplay of space, light, and acoustics that are unique to those spaces.
But I am no fool. God lives everywhere. And temples lie where ever we choose.
If we choose.