Come into this. Come closer.
You are quite the beauty. If no one has ever told you this before know that right now. You are quite the beauty. There is joy in how your mouth dances with your teeth. Your mouth is a sign of how sacred your life truly is. So come into it. Those who are true of heart come into this. You are true of heart so come closer. Come closer. Know that whatever God prays to He asked it to help Him make something of worth. He woke from His dreams scraped the soil form the spaces inside Himself made you and was happy. You make the Lord happy.
Come into this.
Know that something softer than us but just as holy planted the pieces of Himself into our feet that we might one day find our way back to Him. Know that you are almost home.
So come closer come into this. There are birds beating their wings beneath your breastplate gentle sparrows aching to sing–come aching hearts! Come soldiers of joy doormen of truth come true of heart come into this.
My heart was too big for my body so I let it go. And most days this world has thinned me to the point where I am just another cloud forgetting another flock of swans, having shaved off so many of my corners that I have felt at home only in the shape of a ball, bending myself so far backwards that the song of my mother believed I was returning but believe me when I tell you my soul somehow still squeezes into narrow spaces. Place your hand beneath your head when you sleep tonight and you may find it there making beauty as we sleep as we dream as we turn over. When we turn over in the ground may the ghosts that we have asked answers of do the turning kneading us into crumbs of light and into this thing-love-thing called life. Come into it.
Come you wooden museums
you gentle tigers.
Come negro farces in two broken scenes
come you rusting giants–
I see teacups in your smiles upside down glowing. Your hands are like my heart. Some days all they do is tremble. I am like you. I am like you. I too at times am filled with so much fear. But like a hallway must find the strength to walk through it. Walk through this with me. Through this church we call ourselves–this church of bone birthed of blood and muscle where every move our arms make and every breath we swallow is worship. If we choke it is only on songs. Bend with me. In this church of ours.
There is a doorknob glowing like chance. Clutch it. Turn and pull. Step through. Chin up. Back straight. Eyes open. Hearts loud. Walk through this with me.
Walk through this with me.
– Anis Mojgani